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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601638">Symphony of the Night</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusmercury/pseuds/venusmercury'>venusmercury</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Phantom of the Opera Fusion, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attempted Murder, Canon: Castlevania (Cartoon 2017), Castlevania References, Character Death, Gen, Human/Vampire Relationship, Inspired by Castlevania, Major Character Injury, Murder, Murder Mystery, POV Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya, POV Trevor Belmont</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:28:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>49,900</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601638</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusmercury/pseuds/venusmercury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by castlevania and an alternative universe brings the characters to a whole new light.</p><p>Trevor Belmont is a young actor, belonging to a traveling theatre troupe, struggling to make ends meat who befriends the infamous savior of Gresit, a man condemned to the catacombs under the old theatre. As Trevor's curiousity towards the history behind this man's past begin to unravel, he is thrown into a mystery surrounding the death of a woman that sparked the inner turmoils of Wallachia . As a similar murder falls upon one of the Elites during a performance, a reluctant Trevor must team up with the Earl of the estate, and a passionate Speaker, Sypha, in order to save what is left of the memory of a dead woman. The closer the truth is brought to the surface, the darker Trevor's idea of what the world truly is becomes. Thrown at him is an age old tale, a diabolical trap is laid out, set on the descrution of the acclaimed Tepes family, will Trevor and his companions be able to live up to an age old legacy or will they fall into a mad man's fantasy?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya &amp; Trevor Belmont &amp; Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Act One</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey,<br/>This is my first fanfiction and honestly I'm excited. I want to do more with the Castlevania group and hopefuly I can... i don't know if it's still popular or not, but if there are readers out there, share this story and of course enjoy it.<br/>I shall try to stay consistent with the updates as I'm writing as I go.<br/>I had edited the story a bit because what I was writing originally didn't fit me and what I wanted to express.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This is the first chaptere edited... I made quite a few changes to give the story its own voice and to twist the introductiosn of our characters... tell me what you think.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When the last of the custodial crew leaves as the wealthy patrons linger outside the small theater, chatting amongst themselves in the chill of the early September night, Trevor carefully undoes the tie that strangles him throughout the performance. Tonight's play was a paragon considering the small troupe had one twisted ankle and a few sore throats. Since rehearsal ran twice as long yesterday that the show tonight, the performers was given some time to unwind. Trevor was in no hurry to confine himself into a small room to begin unraveling the decent job of art that was his character's design. His fingers absently-mindedly ran along the scar that cut through the left side of his face from just above his eyebrow right down to the slight curve of his cheekbone accented his pronounced jaw.</p><p>In the dappled lighting of the stage, Trevor trudges slowly toward the backstage, having found himself lost in the silence of the afterglow of a good performance. There's a strange nuisance to the air as Trevor's eyes observe the shadows of the doctor making his rounds. "Maintenance" is done regularly on the troupe and finding someone who cared enough to glance over them was more than enough to Sypha. Trevor knows she's still reeling over the fact he nearly dislocated his shoulder. Her complaints of his reckless behavior follow him into her dressing room as she plops down on the plush pale pink couch with a frown. He sighs leaning against her vanity feeling the ache of the stitches strain against the poor job he's done of keeping the wound clean. Sypha's eyes begin to droop as she yawns cueing Trevor to begin his rounds checking on the rest of their troupe. Trevor nods before beginning to check on the rest of the crew. Trevor can't help but pull at his collar, irritated by the incredible heat this old place could give off- between the lights, the stage and dazzling chandelier, both, in some strange conceit contrast to the bitter autumn air that creeps its way through the floorboards.</p><p>In the maelstrom that follows the night's performance, Trevor finds it hard to slip away as his name finds its place in the mouths of his admirers as if it were golden honey to be savored. Trevor's performance, as spoken upon, is admired by both his peers and apparently some interested Elites of the high society. Losing himself in the heat and itch of his costume, Trevor follows his feet down the hall, where the stairs descend into the catacombs below. Between the wooden wall and the steel pillars, there are strange mechanics that grind and turn powering the whole block above. He never truly took the time to pay attention to the art of it all- not in the way that he truly cares. His mind is only on getting to the next destination. Though Trevor's eyesight was keen, he found himself stumbling over his feet as his hands guided him blindly feeling for the latch's cold metal. Tonight, he struggles to even remember where it is until he feels it and unhinges it. Pushing past the door, a thin cloud of dust erupts irritating his nose as he struggles to hold in a sneeze. Carefully, as to not hit his head (for the fourth time since coming up here), he secures the door behind him.</p><p>Trevor shrugs off the overcoat his character wears as he unlatches the whip from his belt. Fishing in his trousers, he stumbles upon the matches he didn't know he had. Something tells him that Sypha put them there just before the show. A hidden smile comes over him as he strikes up the match watching its halo shine into the darkness. Upon his wake, there is a waiting lamp at his disposal which he lights in turn. The catacombs beneath the theatre stretch for miles winding and leading into long passageways that lead into other buildings that are not in use or were originally destroyed when the Night Horde invaded some years ago. The architecture is strange for it feels like no matter how far he walks, there is no end to the space above the theater. Of stone and brick, the way to where Trevor is going is musty as his nose takes assault. There is an unbeknownst comfort to the cool, stale air that reminds him of home instead of the packed bodies that drown him in a sea of humanity below his feet.</p><p>His jacket drags the floor as he squeezes his broad shoulders in to fit down, the narrowing passage. How long Trevor walks is a mystery to him as his footsteps echo in beat with his rummaging thoughts. A dim light glows ahead of him reminding him to make sure to thank Sypha for the candle he holds now. From the last door that is metal, a warm light crawl from underneath it.</p><p>Trevor reaches for the handle, not hesitating to open it and barge into the confines of the strange, but spacious room.</p><p>"Alucard," he hisses.</p><p>"Hunter," is the only response he gets. The cultured bass rises from the shadows that are casted out by the light that shines on Trevor as the door opens.</p><p>Trevor waltzes in with a pep in his step as the door closes dramatically behind him.</p><p>From the shadows, he hears a dismissive sigh.</p><p>"Aren't you supposed to ask to enter my domain?"</p><p>Trevor shrugs acknowledging, "I believe that is your line, is it not?"</p><p>As he turns, he is faced to the owner of the voice. A man stands before a small, heavily polished black piano. It is nothing like the grand piano downstairs donated from the Tepes family. This piano has an arched back that allows the composer to play but will require a stand if they needed sheet music. Upon the top of the piano are drawings, paper and quills that draw Trevor's attention all drowned in the orange hue of the candle that burns upon its holster. The man pays no mind to Trevor's curious eyes as he turns back to his studies. The man is dressed in a thin cotton shirt and a pair of black pants. If Trevor didn't know any better, he would have thought the man had just woken up. Though it is mostly dark, Trevor can still make out the black caped draped causally upon the figure masking the distinctive features of his face. The only true marking Trevor has ever been able to vaguely make out is the violent scar that peaks from under his shirt. A huge, fleshy mess runs down his ashen chest and as far as Trevor can see, it has something to do with Alucard's state of being now. He does not need to see the man to know that he is not like any other Trevor has met- concealed and content with the night, the man's voice is the only thing Trevor knows.</p><p>Alucard, as he had introduced himself, rests his hands on the keys allowing Trevor to see what notes he's trying to compose.</p><p>"Not tonight," Trevor grumbles abruptly, "No music."</p><p>"Request Denied." Alucard replies. Despite the Latin name, his droned refusal is unambiguously Romanian. Whatever the man's surname is, Trevor knows it's a translation of Alucard. After all, why give himself a fake name?</p><p>"For almost every visit, you sit and play, and I sit and listen until I fall asleep and end up with a crook in my neck." Trevor says, setting his lantern down on the only clear spot on the floor- a small uncluttered area near the bed. The attic, or this room, isn't spacious, though what it lacks in length, it makes up for in depth and height.</p><p>"Do you not have trouble sleeping?" Alucard counters.</p><p>"Well... look I spent the last two hours listening to music and singing, so I'd rather just sit in the silence if you don't mind." Trevor explained as he leans against the wall.</p><p>Alucard huffs amused before closing the lid of his piano with even more care than a mother bird takes care of her infants. He cracks his long slender fingers that make Trevor uneasy.</p><p>Alucard makes busy with placing some supplies upon the piano, the only area not touched by ink and moves his chair over the space. Patting the cushion, he summons Trevor to come over. Keeping his eye on the tip of the scissors as he heats it up, Alucard turns to find a reluctant Trevor stumbling into the seat.</p><p>"Show me."</p><p>With a coeval spite and apprehension, Trevor begins to slip out of the rest of his layers, before draping them upon his lap.</p><p>"Hold your arms down," Alucard instructs, "or I could tie them down to the chair while I pull the stitching from your skin. I'm sure it'll only pinch."</p><p>Trevor's right arm drops like deadweight showing off the unmistakable Belmont crest that's golden fabric shimmers in the candlelight.</p><p>"You know we have a troupe doctor." Trevor huffs as he leans away from Alucard and the scissors.</p><p>This only makes the other man raise an eyebrow at the mention of the doctor.</p><p>Taking that as his cue to continue, Trevor muses, "I don't know much about the bloke, but the girls fawn over him as if he's some kinda savior. He's handy though, I'll say that."</p><p>Trevor pauses thoughtfully as Alucard inspects the wounded shoulder that's healing a bit slower than he would like.</p><p>"Not to be incoherent, but shouldn't I go to see him about my shoulder: I assume that because he is licensed."</p><p>"Between the shouting, heat, and periods of long-awaited chaos," Alucard touches the knotted skin causing Trevor to shiver as he begins to snip, "Nothing unusual for a man these days. I find that you get better care with me as you are my only patient if I'm being honest."</p><p>"You think he finds us actors too temperamental?"</p><p>Alucard doesn't respond as Trevor tries to hide his wince with a grin.</p><p>"What?" Trevor asks at Alucard's uneasy gesture.</p><p>"The actors," he says slowly, "from what I hear up below are rather funny about the legends- they panic over the weirdest things. They've only been fed the tales from the townsfolk. Though considering the fuss is doesn't come close to the truth about the sleeping savior under the city."</p><p>Trevor mouth twitches. He is a man whose face reads his expression making Alucard aware of this. From what Trevor knows of Alucard's position, it is ineffable of him to speak about why he is here in the attic.</p><p>"Superstition is just fairytales to keep the kids in at night." Trevor drawls, his voice low, amused bass. Trevor was often told he spoke with his chest as a lion would when they purred. His father thought it was unbecoming of him to speak so low and guttural. Trevor frowns at the thought of his father and how his company has shifted drastically since he left home.</p><p>Alucard simply nods as Trevor suspects the reason why. Trevor hears him let out a breath easing the actor's young mind that in fact he is alive and human? Trevor could hardly concentrate on that last thought as Alucard eases the thread from his shoulder- carefully- he uses the scissors almost like tweezers.</p><p>It isn't healing as well as Trevor hoped from the bright redness of it. He knows it's due to the lack of keeping it dry especially with the rain that's been hitting the city hard over the past few days. Still, the skin is closed, and the soreness is bearable.</p><p>"Do you actually live here?" Trevor asks.</p><p>Alucard's face is completely hidden by his hood, but Trevor feels his cold gaze on him.</p><p>"In a sense- it is not a permanent residence, but only a temporary solution to a decade's old problem. It is why Sypha refers to me as 'the sleeping soldier'."</p><p>A dark cloaked shadow jumping through the night. In the darkness, yes, Trevor could easily see how Alucard could be mistaken for a bloodsucker. Whatever shape he gives off easily creates an image that is almost frightening. Almost. Yet, a soldier? Trevor could not imagine that for a second. Why sleeping? How long had Alucard really been down here?</p><p>"I think I'd know a man from a..." Trevor pauses, trying to choose his words carefully, "dead one." </p><p>"Well, I'd sure hope so Hunter." Alucard replies coolly.</p><p>Trevor can't help but crack a grin, "You're breathing, all right and well, I've seen you eat food before."</p><p>"Make a fist." Alucard instructs before prodding, squeezing, poking, and finally inspecting it further to make sure the wound won't get infected.</p><p>"You haven't been wrapping it tightly."</p><p>"Well, how would I perform," Trevor raises his eyebrows, "the show must go on."</p><p>"Between you and I, considering I have free housing and you don't, it would be wise to actually heal properly given the circumstances." Alucard is slow and cogent with his wording as he prepares Trover's shoulder up to be bandaged again.</p><p>"You have no theatrical love." Trevor states in the same way his father once told him he would be damned to have a so go into such a disgraceful field. With the resignation fading in his voice, hope almost seems to dissipate with the possibility he too may have acted too brashly.</p><p>"You make no sense." Alucard states.</p><p>"It's a priority I perform."</p><p>"Right and next time you trip and fall off stage, I can only hope you'll go see the 'real' physician. If Sypha hadn't stayed late that night, you surely wouldn't have to worry about breaking a leg each performance."</p><p>Trevor watches the haunches of Alucard's shoulders rise and his head dip a little lower over the piano he leans against it on his forearms folding his hands neatly under his chin. Trevor can only infer he is being teased.</p><p>"It wasn't any worse than what I've already experienced." Considering the scar running through his eye, a shoulder didn't measure up.</p><p>"Maybe not, but infection is," Alucard agrees, "let us not put all our chickens into a basket."</p><p>Trevor snorts, "it is eggs, you royal pompous."</p><p>Alucard stiffens at his mistake before relaxing once again.</p><p>"You are right." He dutifully speaks.</p><p>In a feat of incredible disbelief at an agreement, Trevor shrugs off this gesture as a win. He watches Alucard stand up before putting away the scissors and almost begins to proceed back into his reclusive state when he perks his head up in remembrance.</p><p>"Ah, I do have something for you."</p><p>Stricken into immobility, Trevor looks at him dumbfounded. The dim lighting does wonders at concealing Alucard away. It certainly comes to surprise when Trevor feels a piece of paper in his hands.</p><p>"A book?"</p><p>"Well, I was under the impression you could read Hunter, was I mistaken?" Alucard prompts.</p><p>Trevor snatches the book up grumbling to himself.</p><p>"I can read you arrogant git."</p><p>Yet, Trevor doesn't open it willingly. Alucard watches him carefully from the confines of his own darkness.</p><p>"You said they don't deliver where you live at." He insisted.</p><p>"I know what I said." Trevor corrects. For the spitfire of his mouth, he can't seem to move.</p><p>A moment longer of holding the book, Trevor lets it fall back into his lap before turning his attention back to his shoulder. He knows what kind of book it is- the same kind his sister caught him reading before snatching it and running through their mansion of a home. He remembers the way his father's anger tore at the pages burning each one individually before yanking Trevor by the shoulders. He hasn't read a book since.</p><p>"Scarring?" he dismisses his early statement.</p><p>"Just keep it away from the rain and do try to rewrap it."</p><p>Trevor laughs sharply, "Well, I know who to go to if I need more medical advice."</p><p>Alucard can't help but let out a grumbling laugh, though it is to hide the sigh that wants to escape.</p><p>"It is not often I get to practice." He finds himself wandering around the piano to receive his medical bag.</p><p>"Why not help out upstairs?" Trevor can't help but wonder.</p><p>"Sypha believes anonymity allows me to go undetected to anyone to prevent any liabilities that could arise," he adds innocuously, "when an actor trips or there is a missing costume, it is of fallacy. I'd rather that it remains as such."</p><p>"So free rent and no one bothers you?" Trevor leans back stretching his arms up over his head. His shoulder stiffness is unsettling, but he shakes it off.</p><p>"Might have to try this little trick someday."</p><p>"I hardly agree." Despite his educated tones, Alucard leaves Trevor with a prominent impression of having rolled his eyes.</p><p>Since Trevor's inconsistent belongings to proper society, he keeps his expression as straight-forward as he can; however, he can just make out the smile he feels in the atmosphere surrounding Alucard.  <br/>Holding out his left hand, Trevor speaks softly, "I won't bother you if you need to compose."</p><p>Alucard moves forward allowing the light to hit his midnight black cloak. His eyes almost sparkle like golden crystals in the romantic lighting. His firm grip makes Trevor's firmer as the long, cold fingers wrap around Trevor's hand to shake it.</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>"It's whatever."</p><p>Alucard doesn't let go and they stand like this far longer than what is socially acceptable. Trevor clears his throat.</p><p>"Anything else I needed to know?" Trevor asks</p><p>"You were a chasseur, no?" Alucard prods. "Still an avid hunter. I assume a group of Speakers who perform tales couldn't have survived this long without protection. Where were you originally trained?"</p><p>Trevor tries to wiggle his hand from the other man's grasp.</p><p>Alucard immediately releases it before continuing, "Where did you train? Wallachia is only but so big, though I'm sure there's a place. You must have been no older than a boy."</p><p>"Well my father didn't believe in never being too young to fight," Trevor gulps, "but I don't understand why this is important?"</p><p>Alucard's body turns towards the piano.</p><p>"Yes, I think it is. A firsthand account would be remarkable to the story I am telling."</p><p>"That piece your composing?"</p><p>"Tragedy actually, but yes in hindsight, it is a play actually, but yes," Alucard states, "It would be insightful. I can almost account the emotions myself, but it is never the same as truly feeling it. From my standpoint, source material is not easily attained."</p><p>"So, the tragedy," Trevor thinks, "is set in Braila?"</p><p>"Arges, though the tone is consistent throughout."</p><p>"Tone?"</p><p>"Elegiac, ominous, disturbing..." Alucard begins to list waving a hand in the air, "Certain themes translate poorly into music. I need something truly profound, abyssal in depth."</p><p>"How do you propose I help?" Trevor slowly responds.</p><p>"Allow me to show you," Alucard slides onto the piano seat and lifts the lid. His fingers find the keys at ease in the darkness, "Listen and describe to me who this is."</p><p>Trevor takes to his designated spot in the far corner and leans back against the wall as Alucard plays the first note. The tap of the key with his fingers ignites like fire to a woodpile filling the room from the walls to the arched ceiling with an assertive sound. Both foreboding and belligerent, the tones begin to weave themselves into a clear theme within the passing minute. The answers dance on the tip of Trevor's tongue causing his heart to begin pounding rhythmically with the music. He can't be bothered to interrupt Alucard as the composer sways with the melodies of his music. His cloak rides up against his arm and his loosely rolled up shirt bobs up and down the pale skin leaving his forearms naked-his veins popping in their effects.</p><p>When the music stops abruptly, it leaves Trevor with the same feeling as shaving and nicking the skin.</p><p>"Consensus?" Alucard commands</p><p>"An apotheosized man- a fallen leader." Trevor responds without hesitation.</p><p>"Apotheosized?"</p><p>"Bold, daring," Trevor nods, "but not authentic...real."</p><p>"But to a young boy- a soldier- provided this man is his senior, that is someone he would follow to death."</p><p>Trevor shakes his head truthfully, "then you've created him."</p><p>Alucard hums, hoarse and deep, "How about this?"</p><p>He explodes into something Trevor thinks is no different than what he's heard before until he hears the subtle differences. A change in tempo and the desolate turns delicate. The rhythm changes, bridging the words from hatred to acceptance. The pitch rises compared to before when it lowered.</p><p>Alucard stops, Trevor breaks out into snaps. In the small space, between the two men, the gesture makes no sense and Trevor stops himself. Alucard chuckles as he bows basking in the glow of admiration.</p><p>"Well guess living up here has more perks than I thought," Trevor praises, "That is exactly how it sounds to be a chasseur blinded by the young man's ego and another's man war."</p><p>"Truly?"</p><p>"Unfortunately." Trevor nods.</p><p>Alucard taps his fingers against the some more keys playfully.</p><p>"Why do you need my accounts?"</p><p>Alucard looks up at him, "I prefer doing my research properly, though as an actor, you may not truly understand that."</p><p>"Is that so? Well it seems to me you've already done it." Trevor snorts at this gross understatement.</p><p>"It is nowhere where it should be," Alucard says, "It can be something of a masterpiece in due time."</p><p>"I honestly don't see what my insight would do for you."  <br/>"I was not there, remember? You were. I only saw bits of what you experienced" Alucard's tone suggest there's not more to be said. The cloak rides up a bit as he stands. It is a bit too big for him, but it is more effective than them sitting in the darkness when Trevor first met him. It took a lot of gumption to sit still while this stranger pushed a needle through his skin in the blinding darkness. With a hand still resting on the key, Alucard pulls at his cloak.</p><p>"I suppose I have to come back, so I will help. Afterall, the troupe is stationed here for a while." Trevor promises.</p><p>Upon saying those words, the chime of the grandfather clock in the lobby goes off strikingly loud considering its distance: it is midnight,</p><p>"Unfortunately, not tonight." Trevor adds knowing being locked in the theater again would be no more adventurous than being locked in his family's cellar.</p><p>"When can I expect your arrival?</p><p>"Rehearsals run early tomorrow, but we break around midmorning. Hm, I'll say half past ten?"</p><p>"Half past ten." Alucard repeats agreeing, his hand never leaving the piano.</p><p>"Until tomorrow." Trevor pushes himself off the wall walking with an odd amusement to his steps. The sound of piano music trails after him. Echoing through the corridor until the constant rapping of his footsteps overpowers the fading melody.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Act Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trevor and Alucard work out more of his play as Trevor tries to undercover more about the man behind the black cloak.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, this is another chapter and I'm excited at how well it flows with the actual Castlevania characters. I just rewrote some of the details and made the storyline clearer.<br/>Hope you enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Trevor does come back, it feels as though he has never truly left. Half-awake with nothing but black coffee on his stomach, he is but a snap away from breaking the piano. Upon Trevor's rendition of his days as a child, Alucard freezes up. Driven and statute, as if he was captured into this position, Trevor takes interest in the full force of glistening irises across from where he leans against his wall. After mumbles of initial concern and question, Alucard doesn't respond, doesn't even flinch until Trevor finds himself basking in ignorant silence once more.</p><p>Following, after some given time, is an extreme and scornful answer of "Anything else?"</p><p>Something in Alucard's condescending tone causes Trevor to snap. His patience is worn thin by a bad dress rehearsal and his even shorter temper has sparked before he can stop himself. He doesn't apologize even as Alucard's relaxed demeanor gives as Trevor tries to convey for the fourth time, the first full time, what it feels like to watch your whole world go up in flames. He can still hear his mother's inhumane shrills in the air as the fire burned through the family home.  Alucard stops pacing and finds his rightful seat at the piano.</p><p>Presumptuous beyond reason, Trevor lashes curses out at him; furthermore, the man cracks his knuckles as he begins to play.</p><p>Trevor silences. He finds himself lacking the motion that suddenly enraptured his company.</p><p>Alucard grows vivid with life.</p><p>The pianist runs full force into the melody, blinded and dazed, as he stumbles to gain his footing. Soon, he finds his pace and his strides grow cumbersome- the sound is manic strangling Trevor's lungs as he forgets how to breathe. Alucard falters, to and from, each key being exercised as they choke with each absent note but not after their wordless singing fills the room with the heavy sounds of fire raging and burning screams of- Trevor shakes all of this away trying to ignore the fact that he has once again left himself open to this stranger.</p><p>There is no beginning and there is no end. Patterns upon patterns begin to vary and Trevor demises the motion that Alucard, in his own realm, is so forthright in his ability to see through the actor without looking at him. It's impossible to decipher where Alucard's eyes end and the candlelight begins, but the way his body sways so melodically as if keeping the time, hypnotizes Trevor in this shuffle of his memories and the music.</p><p>Line upon line upon line begins to repeat and repeat and repeat until Trevor loses count though his fingers are steady with the melody. Alucard has done it.</p><p>As if reading his thoughts, Alucard rips his fingers from the keys killing the last note raucously reminding Trevor of the sound of his own scream.</p><p>"Good?" Alucard orders a response.</p><p>"Quite," Trevor says letting out a breath, and repeats himself, "Quite."</p><p>"What you heard," Alucard presses.</p><p>"It's almost realistic."</p><p>"Hm. Then I have to admit I wasn't trying hard enough."</p><p>"I'd be a dead man if it were."</p><p>"Excellent," Alucard exclaims mercilessly in his calm excitement, "That is my intention Hunter."</p><p>Trevor takes a seat on the small stool trying to catch his breath as if he'd been holding it for hours. He feels his heart pounding causing an ache where his right shoulder is still sore.</p><p>"This will suffice for the moment." Alucard counter, standing up and stretching his arms out to reach for a pen. Nothing bolder than a man with a pen.</p><p>"Working with you will induce me to be careful of my rewrites and composition." Alucard scribbles something down.</p><p>Trevor sighs, "Does it do anything?" His voice is still husky and dry. He clears it trying not to sound as if he were crying.</p><p>Alucard pauses in his notes, but his head stays dipped. He continues writing before responding absently, "I will have to show you the two parts differentiated."</p><p>"Two parts? You mean your account?"</p><p>Alucard remains silent.</p><p>Trevor waits for a reply.</p><p>Alucard begins scratching out stuff and his notes spread to two sheets of paper now.</p><p>"Well, best be off before they come looking for me." Trevor shrugs on his character's jacket.</p><p>Alas, no response.</p><p>With that, Trevor picks up the whip attaching it to his belt before picking up a copy of the newspaper Alucard left out on the table and departs. </p><p> </p><p>What seems like an eternity, is merely two weeks later, as Trevor runs through his lines once more. He muses himself by practicing in the mirror hanging from the Janitor's closet after the rehearsal. A tug at his sleeve makes him smile as Sypha appears behind him.</p><p>"You shouldn't be exerting yourself," she mumbles "I really would like to do our scenes together rather than with your understudy."</p><p>"Sypha," he sighs frustrated by the fact he's still a page and a half behind where he should be and can't seem to remember a specific line.</p><p>"We'll talk about that later. Our friend wants to see you."</p><p>"Friend?"</p><p>Sypha pretends to make fangs with her fingers placing them in front of her mouth which Trevor ignores.</p><p>"To eat or to listen too?" Trevor asks.</p><p>Sypha smiles, her full lips parting to show it is genuine. Her beautiful blue eyes gaze up at his from the mirror. There's a hint of a dimple on her left cheek.</p><p>"With him, I can never really tell the difference."</p><p>Her soft Spanish accent is what first drove Trevor here after listening to her sing. The first performance he ever saw her in was a small street show he stumbled upon on one of his drunken nights. It was right after he had saved her grandfather from the clutches of a disgruntled clergyman accusing the Speakers of indecency. After he led the kin man to his wagon, Trevor set out to find the feisty redhead. Between the alcohol and the spells her voice cast, Trevor was truly infatuated with acting after that (maybe it was more that, but he was myopic to his feelings at times).</p><p>A slight smile tugs at his lips remembering how she guided him into sobriety and away from the craziness that was his past life. Trevor never thought acting would give him such a release, but he had spent a lifetime trying to be someone he was not: this time, he got paid to do it.</p><p>"Sypha, can I ask you something?"</p><p>"Depends on what it is." Her voice is airy and teasing as he turns to face her. The blue cardigan that rests upon her shoulders does her eyes justice and accents her tiny frame. He looks down at her with more admiration and respect than that of any person he knows other than the eccentric "legend" downstairs.</p><p>"If our companion has been down there for a while, how does that tie in with the accusation of, ya know, how does that become a part of some epic folklore?"</p><p>Sypha doesn't speak for a moment as her smile turns into a puzzled resignation.</p><p>"Well Belmont," she states flatly, "he's hardly one of those mindless drones. He is... well, the Elder always told me stories about this tale passed down were a long-lost hero would be awakened and be accompanied by two others. Elder and I thought if he was to come out, it would set the townspeople into a frenzy. They've already been on edge since the raids."</p><p>Trevor takes this in before persisting, "You don't believe he's the sleeping soldier?"</p><p>His perception of her becomes quite murky once again and Sypha puts a hand to her hip before leaning in to speak.</p><p>"Belmont, you know as well as I, that I do. You've seen him down there. You've been with me when I first told you. You can't actually think that it's just some coincidence."</p><p>Trevor considers what she says before asking, "Do you have any more matches?" </p><p> </p><p>The men fall into a strange habit of repeating sessions. Trevor finds himself leaning against his favorite wall outlooking the room. His lantern is lit beside him allowing him to see only what is in front of his hands. Beyond him, there is a faint glow of a candle burning lowly from overuse. Pale fingers are what he barely makes out as the music begins. This session is no different than the one before. Trevor speaks, Alucard wears him down, and Trevor lashes out. Before Trevor's fury has time to burgeon, Alucard begins to soothe the anger into remission His music becomes adroit in story-telling weaving in elements that Trevor could only now describe as lugubrious as he listens.</p><p>Alucard plays on bridging the tones of the commander with a new fervid rage swaying Trevor's image of the assaults between the truculent fool and the stolid fights to the stentorian cries of the people who have done a great wrong reflecting upon their choices as the phantoms arise from the ashes.</p><p>It is only when Alucard stops that Trevor lets out a feigned breath. It is only, in this instance, Trevor allows himself to feel moved. The air itself is heavy and dense. It is as cold as the pale fire providing a false comfort- that is what the music does to him.</p><p>"Um... will you be writing that down?"</p><p>"Unscripted," Alucard explains preoccupied, "I knew the form, but not the object."</p><p>"And you have memorized it- enough to write it out?"</p><p>"If you would so kindly stop your mumbling, Hunter, yes I would."</p><p>Trevor slowly shuts his mouth, crossed-armed and annoyed. He doesn't understand why the preservation of his silence depends on how the music will be composed. Fortunately, Trevor stands demure in a way that only a true Belmont would be able to: it is the silence that allows him to see the process clearly.</p><p>Alucard's hums the melody to himself allowing Trevor to zone out. Section by section is composed that will be the story of the century. There is a wordless singing, harmonization, and a brief mumbling- it is never enough to Trevor make out how gifted of a singer Alucard might be. It seems as if the pianist is debating within himself as he repeats, rephrases, or scratches out something altogether. His pen work is just as delicate as if he was composing on the piano. His left hand is perfectly aligned with the slight tilt of his head as Trevor can just make out the swirl of his cursive writing.</p><p>However, when Alucard shows no sign of letting up in the near-future, Trevor straightens up as he figures he might as well leave.</p><p>"Stay," Alucard speaks up from his notes holding up his other hand, "it helps." Before he deliberately adds, "Sypha usually waits until I dismiss her." His words come out vibrated and breathy.</p><p>Trevor groans before going back to his wall. He glances at the small clock by the bed post.</p><p>"You got half an hour twit then I'm needed."</p><p>Alucard responds with a hum never giving it second thought.</p><p>Trevor glances around in awe by how boring this is. His eyes wander again to take in the poorly build bed set rusting in the corner, the cheap rug in front of him that looks like it hasn't been white in a long time. Feeling for his script tucked in his coat pocket, he sinks down to the floor beside his lantern before practicing his lines.</p><p>"Hunter."</p><p>"Yeah?"</p><p>"You're half an hour is up."</p><p>Trevor looks at the clock, "Aye, thanks."</p><p>He drapes back on the big furred coat his sister gave him as a present a few years back as a reminder of his first hunt.</p><p>"This will take three days," Alucard explains, hunched over the piano, "Return in two."</p><p>Trevor adjusts his shoulder and straightens his back. His feet plant firmly into the old wooden flooring.</p><p>"Hm?" Alucard's eyes rest solely on him and for a moment Trevor feels his skin chill as goosebumps rise.</p><p>"Writing about a great man and being one are two different things," Trevor cautioned.</p><p>Alucard's whole body is now flushed with Trevor's as they stare at each other from opposing sides of the piano.</p><p>Trevor stalls.</p><p>"I suppose," Alucard murmurs, "It does not. To reallocate, will you be returning in two days?"</p><p>"No," Trevor says, "Monday's my day off this month. I'll be by on Tuesday."</p><p>"Very well." Alucard says before turning his attention back his work.</p><p>Trevor leaves with his script in hand. </p><p> </p><p>That following Tuesday finds a well-rested Trevor budding with curiosity. It occurs to him as he bites into an apple one of the ladies slid to him with a wink that he has only see Alucard eat once- he nibbled on a half of piece of bread Trevor brought the second time they met as a thank you for the stitches.</p><p>"How are you eating?" Trevor questions.</p><p>"Normal," Alucard dismisses immediately, "Furthermore, tell me about the horses--"</p><p>"As a doctor, don't you think ya oughta uh...." Trevor rubs his chin, "care about ya diet?"</p><p>Alucard looks at him perplexed. Trevor can tell by the tilt of his head.</p><p>"When did I say I was a doctor?"</p><p>Trevor waves his right hand in annoyance.</p><p>"I, at one point, studied medicine."</p><p>"Still do."</p><p>"I wasn't aware it was a continuing circumstance.</p><p>"Obviously," Trevor points out, "At least until I decide to get another one. One who doesn't charge me at least. It's a bit scarcely to find a good physician in a catacomb. Anywhere if you're me."</p><p>Alucard snorted, "Are you done?"</p><p>"Never, I can keep this going." Trevor smirks.</p><p>"Sypha helps me out. As a Speaker, you know how they are helpful. We have arranged something," Alucard gestures towards an adjoining door, "When she can't come down, I have means."</p><p>"And drinks?"</p><p>"I have something."</p><p>"Alcohol?"</p><p>"Clean Water."</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"Hunter, why do you insist on pestering me with frivolous questions?"</p><p>"Horses come with supplies." Trevor explains.</p><p>With that one sentences, Alucard's disdain turns to dithered attention.</p><p>"If you add that to ruined buildings, small tents, combined with a mix of fire and body heat with little oxygen, I'd say the nights grow chaotic."</p><p>"How so?"</p><p>"When I met Sypha, there was this great fire not to far from us. I- it was sweltering, yet I just remember running around giving orders. There was this exhaustion of trying to put the fires out. Sypha collected as much water as she could carry-twice as many buckets as the men."</p><p>Alucard lets out a chuckle. His shoulders moving with him. His questions followed suit and Trevor speaks until he's threatening to miss his own rehearsal. Though it matters relatively little if he's presents at the start of the orchestra setting up, it's the ballet that is its own beast.</p><p>"I'm still trying-!" Alucard's hand gestures curtly to the piano keys.</p><p>"Next time." Trevor answers hurriedly.</p><p>"If you insist." ALucard grumbles.</p><p>Trevor's childish antics sulk with him as he frowns, "Unfortunately."</p><p>"Friday?"</p><p>"Friday."</p><p>Trevor bounds towards the iron doors gathering his script up and the fur jacket. He spots the newspaper sitting on a small counter by the door which he snatches up. Today, the music follows along with his hurried pace, restless in its claustrophobic space trying to climb out. It's beautiful reminding Trevor of his mother's grand piano that would accompany him to sleep when guests would stay late at their manor. Shivering as a gust of window enwraps him, Trevor rushes towards the stairs faster than he anticipated missing the cold as heat rises from the other side of the landing. He opens the door that leads him to the stairs and disappears above leaving the solemn music to its own devices.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Act Three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Hey Guys, I'm back!!!!<br/>There is death, but don't worry... it's only begining as the plot thickens.<br/>Who is the culprit and who is innocent?<br/>Trust me... it's not what you think</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>What's UP you guys?!<br/>Hey, so I noticed there isn't enough Castlevania fanfic or any long ones. Plus I love a good vampire story (not too much fawning and angst, but it may just be me)... Anyway, I hope you guys like this and heck if you have no idea what Castlevania is, you can still follow along.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Friday brings nothing new. The walk downstairs does nothing to soothe his mind, but the ample company washes away the misleading discomfort. Alucard barely lets Trevor get in a word before he's pounding on his keys in such a fashion than reminds Trevor of the first time, he ever heard a piano. Something eerily familiar makes the hairs on the back of his neck stands as the hooded figure's concealed face seems directed onto him. It's as if Trevor is being hunted. When Trevor's brow furrows, a sharp forte snapped him back into the piece. Alucard's expectations of the audience dawns a sauntered weight of being exact and foreboding, but never to compromise.</p><p>Trevor leaves him to his corrections. Then Saturday ensues to no difference, and the Tuesday to come after that. Every occasion, Trevor rushes towards the stairs later and later, leaving slightly too often each time. Day by day and visit by visit, the worst of the war comes to light; the worst of the good men die, and the innocent women scream covering their children. The worst of Trevor's mind is carved into the music. He can see his vulnerability, his pain, and his fears in a rhythmic 4/8 measure harsher and more detailed than he liked. Somehow the stories darken as he speaks out loud, the music dances with them, but Alucard wields them as he would a sword. The worst of terrors runs unresponsive until Alucard effortless slices through it leaving it utterly decapitated.</p><p>Airy and yet dense, Trevor finds himself eager to leave. No matter how focus Alucard seems, his hooded head rises to Trevor when their time limit expires. It is not a friendship. But more of a silent companionship- something Trevor finds abstruse if this is even the case. Acquaintances with common interests was more reasonable.</p><p>"The libretto of the first half of act one is almost complete," Alucard proclaims as Trevor's thoughts wonder too far, "or it will be, when I'm done cleaning up."</p><p>"Ah, and what do you expect me to do?"</p><p>"Do you speak Latin? Wallachian?"</p><p>"Never was much of a scholar though the pub girl down on sixth definitely knows her words... I know some Latin."</p><p>"You disgust me Hunter, but do not bother me until I am done."</p><p>The blunt dismissal has Trevor gathering his things up.</p><p>"Whateva."</p><p>"I mean it."</p><p>"Mean what?"</p><p>Alucard ignores the answer, saying, "When I finish, I'll play for you the completed act- to the extent of its completion on a piano."</p><p>Something about the situation seemed to be an anachronism. Trevor's mouth grew dry.</p><p>"You've been down here hiding a while eh? How long is this gonna take ya?"</p><p>At this rate, Trevor would be thankful if they finished by next spring.</p><p>The black hood shakes, "I've done most of the initial work. This is something different."</p><p>"So, in the past, what, few weeks, you've composed a new story?"</p><p>"Act."</p><p>"Hm, doesn't seem like an awful lot of time," Trevor tries to point out, "it just seems like they take longer."</p><p>Trevor knows little to nothing about Tragedies. Sypha had told him about her days on the road as a Speaker traveling with the Elder (her grandfather) and seeing one before. He, on the other hand, found no joy in them. Too much tragedy.</p><p>"It can be done. I know a few people who can write those silly little plays you act in- it's not hard."</p><p>"Who are you competing with?" Trevor asks intrigued.</p><p>"Ah, the Hunter is inquisitive. I compete with only myself."</p><p>"Because there's no one quite like you, are there?"</p><p>Alucard's mood seems to lighten at this causing Trevor to shake his head playfully.</p><p>"I will let you know when to return," Alucard assures, "Until then, I may forget this native tongue."</p><p>Trevor grins at his reply.</p><p>"Suit yourself," he says coolly. Trevor comes close to shaking Alucard's hand but hesitates.</p><p>Somehow, the icy fingers wrap around his warm flesh like death.</p><p>"Fino ad allora." Alucard says shaking his hand.</p><p>"Pompous git."</p><p>Three days pass of rehearsals and scrambling for costumes, but it is the fourth day that trips Trevor up. He finds his body at the end of the hallway, by the trap door in the floor, his hands resting on the aged bronze knob. Resisting the urge to open it, Trevor turns and finds his way back to the troupe. There are scripts to edited, places to be learned, words to be recited, and instruments to be tuned. In the back of his mind, the sirens tempting voice calls in the form of a piano in his head.</p><p>There is a buzz in the air that soon leaves the song untouched. Gossip spreads like a wildfire through the theatre filling Trevor's ears with all too petty and frivolous gawking concerning some rich pretty boy. Or the Count, as the frequenters refer to him as. The Count apparently is the owner of the opera house considering it is his land- neither the Count nor his family has stepped foot into this place after his wife was killed one night leaving about a block away.</p><p>They would be present tonight.</p><p>"I've heard the story," Sypha informs him, "When the Count was younger, his wife loved it here. They used to actually do a lot of light and airy plays here at one time," she pointed to one of the Elite areas, "there, she was in Box seven, center row."</p><p>Trevor knows the seating arrangements well. It's the box he focuses on when he practices and during performances. It's empty always but centered enough for him to look as if his attention is on all the audience.</p><p>"So, it stays empty."</p><p>"Well, yes, I suppose out of habit, it does."</p><p>"It was reserved for her after-all, I assume."</p><p>Sypha lifts an eyebrow, "Yes, her love for this place extended itself everywhere. She allowed the Elder to set up here due to his health and run it under her."</p><p>"So, the Count bought it when she died."</p><p>"Yes!"</p><p>Trevor and Sypha stare out at box seven with the lack of response; it is a respectful moment.</p><p>"I bet she was some woman." Trevor says to himself.</p><p>"The Dilettante? Oh, from what I've heard, she was, a woman of science and ahead of her time. Two of her pieces of work are housed here," Sypha's admiration grows contagious as she beams, "The portraits in the front and the one in the common area."</p><p>Both had a picture of men on them, but both were strikingly different.</p><p>"Yeah, well" Trevor whistles, "imagine buying a whole theatre though?"</p><p>"It does seem excessive, but romantic. It was a lot of trouble at the time. When we first got here, my elder didn't know if we would be able to set up here because of the change in ownership. Somehow he found favoritism in the eyes of one of the private donors." Sypha pinches the bridge of her nose and glares at the other two actors on stage.</p><p>"We will have to run the scene again. The trap door entrance is my part of the second act. I can't have myself twisting an ankle-"</p><p>"Clumsy." Trevor snickers and she slaps his arm playfully.</p><p>"It was all my fault," one of the dancers begins to tear up, "I swore I saw the phantom and froze."</p><p>"Like with the curtains last night." another man pipes up.</p><p>Before Trevor finds himself getting lost in a superstitious debate, the director gives them all a dirty look before running their lines. The stakes are higher than ever to be perfect, especially with the owner coming. It is the first time they will be featuring an opera in over a year which relies on the sole power of their voices carrying. Trevor finds himself center stage looking at the empty Box hoping he can make it through the night without staring. When they break, his stomach sours and Trevor find himself laying down instead of eating. His throat is dry, and he longs for a rich sip of hard cider- maybe a stronger ale. Trevor, instead, sips his water knowing if there is to be a twisted ankle, sore throat, or illness, tonight is bait. Trevor stares at the candle lighting his room- there is no warding off this superstition as paranoia.</p><p>Trevor, for all his worth and work, has never seen a fuller house since he's started his career- his eyes struggle to take in the city's finest and riches patrons gathered on one consecutive night for one reason: to meet this Count. Flushed and sweaty, an usher reaches for him- it is something uncommon especially in the growing mass of the theatre.</p><p>"Box 14," Hector reports, and Trevor is moving without thought. "I was to retrieve you as the baroness has requested your audience, sir."</p><p>"No phantoms?" Trevor asks housing his knife back into his belt. Hector chuckles weakly.</p><p>Trevor's strides are quick, but he's careful not to run. The decorum of this place, even in an emergency, is important- there was no need to start a riot. However, Trevor is a lead actor, and his gait brings no suspicion.</p><p>Upon arriving at the Box, his eyes meet that of golden embers that burn even with the lights on. He looks at the other patrons in the row. They were stunning- Trevor had only seen glances at the audiences, but from a distance. His eyes drift upon the Elites with their money and prowess feeling cornered and overwhelmed. Taking a deep breath, Trevor steps up and smiles.</p><p>The woman, the baroness, or whoever, holds out an elegant hand waiting for him to take it. Trevor does. He takes that cold, pale small hand, turning it over and placing a kiss on her palm (just the way Sypha taught him). He glances up to find her blushing or flustered before she snatches the hand away rubbing the area.</p><p>"My, my, I never would have mistaken you for the flirtatious type." She purrs- almost in disgust that a human has touched her.</p><p>Trevor smiles weakly, "Well only the best for our Elites."</p><p>This response carries over well with the group as an older man rises up from the seat like a shadow. His long black hair flows to his shoulders. His dark red, copper eyes gleam with discontent. He is a pellucid example of power, if not royalty. This Elite is draped in all black even down to his socks. Trevor finds himself not being able to hold his gaze as his eyes wonder past him. <br/>"You must be the new actor that has everyone excited." A voice cuts in from a figure still sitting behind the man in black. His accent is that of someone from oversees... the name of the exact nation evades Trevor, but he is of African descent. The figure leans forward revealing a young man with a straight face. His tone is devoid of all emotions as well as his expression. Trevor easily picks up on the two parallel scars right above his left brow and the small dots that pattern themselves around his right eye.</p><p>A merchant.</p><p>"Yes, I... uh... I joined not too long ago. It is a pleasure to meet you." The all goes unsaid. In that moment, Trevor is thankful for Hector who pulls at his arm.</p><p>"Sir, the curtain shall rise in ten. We'd best get you back down there."</p><p>Trevor nods a farewell. His focus, however, stumbles onto a young man with the copper eyes that bore into his-it leaves him with a feeling of déjà vu. Fumbling his way through the settling crowd towards the stage, Trevor barely makes it back in time before he finds Sypha's grandfather walking onto the stage. The introduction begins and the orchestral accompanies the stage as the first act starts. The play draws on in a fashion that is different from those of its time- for starters, each one is a story passed down from speaker to the speaker. Their oral history is beautifully explicit. Trevor lets out one more shaky breath before he begins to step toward the stage. Sypha stands in the center of the stage- the beads of sweat on her forehead make her sparkle. Trevor fixes himself to say his first line.</p><p>A simple 'there is no peace in a land apart' is what he shall say as he opens his mouth. In the moment he dares disrupt the pensive silence of the theatre, vicissitude of opening night that a blood curdling scream would rip through the audience. Trevor finds his gaze torn from Sypha to Box five as a light shine onto the box just before a body fall upon the ground below. The patrons erupt into what Trevor can only as torpor. No one moves- no one speaks. In the few seconds that blinks by, the world slows, but Trevor finds his feet near the body and his eyes plastered to the mangled figure. There is stentorian of commotion that occurs, though it does not even touch the silence in his mind.</p><p>The woman was the beautiful maiden that he often spotted conversing amongst the troupe. Though they hadn't been at the theatre long, she was well known to most of them- if not comfortable with all.</p><p>"Lenore!" A strangled scream pushed through the crowd. Hector's body propelled out of the crowd. Crouching down to her side, his knees seem to sank in the blood. Hector stared at her losing all words as his strangled cries choked him. His hands hovered over her head, but there seemed to be something stopping him from touching her.</p><p>Trevor felt his compunction as a few other women he recognized stepped forward. One of them being the baroness that called upon him earlier that performance. She didn't leave the embrace of the man draped in black- instead she took the opportunity to draw closer to him.</p><p>"Murder!" Someone yelled and before Trevor could fathom what happened next, he is ushered to the side. Sypha looks up at him with her shimmering blue eyes in the dark as her eyes glaze over.</p><p>"Lenore," she whispers, putting a hand to her mouth before resting her head on his chest. Trevor stands there neither wrapping his arms around or consoling her. Truly, he had been alone for so long he doesn't know what to do. He looks back at the small figured woman with her grayish skin turning an unsightly palish color as her autumn-colored hair conceals her youthful face. Her eyes were wide open, but Trevor knows surrounded by the crowd, someone has to eventually shut them. Hector is pushed out by her family- a group of strong, young woman including the baroness who's stoic expression doesn't falter.</p><p>"You really are bad at this Belmont." Sypha's soft voice cuts through his thoughts. Trevor shrugs. Sypha steps away, looking past him- Trevor gaze follows. In the distance, at the top of the theatre, towards the doors, stands a sole figure staring at the scene unfolding.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Act Four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Black, silky fabric blends into the shadows of the entrance of the theatre where the figure stands looking upon all at is happening. Trevor weasels his way through the crowd- his lips almost divulge the name of the man he had come to strangely admire. Sypha begins directing him through, what is the mass of patrons in panic, toward the figure- a few more steps ahead of them, the thief casually descends into the lobby disappearing behind the silk lavender doors. Trevor cannot seem to fathom whether the figure wore a cloak or if he had indeed just seen a phantom? Regardless, Trevor still rushes towards the doors with a thud. Outside, the white washed candlelight provides no help in distinguishing who the stranger was. They have simply vanished into thin air.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, it's late, but i'm updating. Tell me if you see any typos. I think i did good with editing though I didn't want to rush through it and then it not make sense. Anyway, I see more people are reading the stories so awesome. I hope you guys enjoy!!!<br/>More chapters coming and it will be back to back bc I plan on finishing this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Black, silky fabric blends into the shadows of the entrance of the theatre where the figure stands looking upon all at is happening. Trevor weasels his way through the crowd- his lips almost divulge the name of the man he had come to strangely admire. Sypha begins directing him through, what is the mass of patrons in panic, toward the figure- a few more steps ahead of them, the unknown casually descends into the lobby disappearing behind the silk lavender doors. Trevor cannot seem to fathom whether the figure wore a cloak or if he had indeed just seen a phantom? Regardless, Trevor still rushes towards the doors with a thud. Outside, the whitewashed candlelight provides no help in distinguishing who the stranger was. They have simply vanished into thin air. Trevor turns to Sypha who bites her bottom lip in frustration. Her small stature is swallowed up by her tan robes of a Speaker and the blue scarf around her shoulders. That's one of the many things he admired about her, yet it annoyed him to admit. Her simplistic beauty, even in boys clothing, she was no less a woman- in fact, she seemed more refined and agile.</p><p>Trevor is shocked when he feels warm, fleshy hands- delicate and small- sturdy even- wrap around his big ones. It has been too long since someone had touched him. He almost forgot what it felt like. Trevor lets his hand fall away from hers as they near the main doors. Few patrons wait out here frantically trying to summon their fairs and wagons. Trevor's eyes sorely adjust to the change of lighting, finding it too bright.</p><p>"He has to still be here." Sypha says. Trevor can see the confusion dancing as her eyebrows furrow. It is enough for him to whisper,</p><p>"Alucard."</p><p>Sypha turns to face him, not with surprise, but almost anger.</p><p>"Belmont," she starts, "how could you-"</p><p>"Easy! A man living in a coffin under the theatre wearing a cloaked hood. The same black cloak we spotted today. I don't know what tales he's been telling you but think about it. Why else would he be under there if not to plan the assassination of a high-ranking elite?" His whispers slither out like harsh hisses.</p><p>Trevor has no shame in admitting that whatever Alucard is up to, the man had clearly deluded them both. This idea leaves a feeling that spurs something in Trevor to snap.</p><p>"I'm going to find him."</p><p>At this announcement, he turns to walk back towards the stage, but Sypha yanks at his arm.</p><p>"No!" she says forcefully taking Trevor by surprise. A few other people in the lobby even turn their way. It is enough for Trevor to push Sypha closer towards a corner behind one of the rich columns that held beautiful roman carvings. Tucked away, he scolds her,</p><p>"You don't actually..."</p><p>"Believe?" she finishes.</p><p>"Sypha, it's a story. He's been telling us a story. Your grandfather tells tales to the younger Speakers. It's the same thing."</p><p>"Trevor, why do you think my Elder wanted you to join us?" Her bright eyes shine into his dark ones. That is a question he instantly realizes has only one answer. The old man, too, believed in the legend.</p><p>He sighs in response, feeling everything crash around them. The guardsmen come to inspect the theatre. The patrons begin to get rounded up. All while Sypha pleads with Trevor not to go after Alucard. It is enough for him to understand what is going on- the thing she can't see is Alucard is dangerous.</p><p>As the night progresses, Trevor makes his way back to where the body was. The death dealer is already bagging her up. Her beautiful autumn hair is nothing short of perfection. Her melancholy expression is haunting and ghoulish to Trevor sending shivers down his spine. Death never suited anyone more than it did this woman. Before turning his gaze away in respect, slight of chance, under her turtleneck-like tunic, one side- the right side- is slightly lowered. It is enough to show the two red small bead markings.</p><p>Two very distinctive marks.</p><p>Trevor looks away just in time to catch the icy stares baroness who stayed behind to see to it that all orders were taken care of. Her eyes shine unnaturally bright in the darkness. Her platinum white hair could easily be mistaken for blonde during regular hours is almost silver revealing her age. Those insightful eyes bore into him. Trevor doesn't look away, just past her to see the other woman looking at him. One large one with blue hair and a bluish tint to her skin cracks her knuckles. Trevor's hands form fists. It has been too long since he has found himself alone with the upper societal members, but his youth had taught not to be reckless.</p><p>Elites could not be trusted.</p><p>Especially when there was blood around to be spilled.</p><p>Trevor finally makes his way back to his small dressing room. The silence of the other actors is sardonic to the fevered wails of a broken Hector. He drowns out the sorrows with thoughts of Alucard. These progressive notions transgress what were normal and Trevor rubs his forehead trying to rack his brain around the events of tonight- could Alucard be the murderer? From what he knew, the man had been down there for a while and he was writing some elaborate tragedy based on the rumored legend that a great warrior slept in the very catacombs he knows resided. Such a fevered legend could have sprouted simply because the people of Gresit needed to believe in something and Alucard took the opportunity to monopolize such a story and was now reeling in on the profits to be made if such a legend were true. After-all, it wasn't like anyone could predict the future, nevertheless, Trevor, of all men, would not be some glorified warrior hunter. It seemed absurd, though some of the pieces connected rather... coincidently. Somehow, Trevor argued the logic: Alucard was many things, but he wasn't superstitious or prude. He was a man of arrogant knowledge and humble thought. It took everything in Trevor's will not to go down into the dark catacombs to collect the strange man and bring him up for questioning. Why had Sypha insisted on protecting him so?</p><p>In all his life, Trevor had only heard remnants about the Sleeping Soldier under Wallachia. It was a good tale, but one his mother so loved to tell him at night.</p><p>"There is a sleeping soldier who awaits his hunter and a scholar. Together, they shall defeat the evil night horde." He mumbled to himself thinking of her and that well-mannered voice spoken as soft as the first layer of frost kissing the forest ground. Trevor falls upon the couch that creaks under his weight. Never in his life had he laid so still. What seems like hours, might only be minutes as a knock on his door interrupts thoughtless thinking. His somnolent demeanor is something Trevor doesn't even think of as his bear fur cloak is thrown upon a small chair and the top of his shirt is unbuttoned.</p><p>Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, the dark bags under his eyes and sweat-stained neckline remind him of the drunkards down by fifth. Conceivably, Trevor hadn't exactly been feeling himself since the night began. Attempting to fix his spiky dark brown hair, he finally musters the courage to face what he perceived to be a heated Sypha. She had to join her Elder in the box office to discuss tonight's events and what to do next. Surely the Count would be feeding them straw due to the inconvenience. It wasn't everyday an important Elite died, so whatever message was being sent, Trevor could only feel his stomach drop even lower than he thought possible. In his mind, Trevor knows this is one of two knocks bearing news he is either being laid off or the troupe is moving on. With the seasons coming in, work might be good, but setting up and finding such accommodations would be demanding- let alone impossible.</p><p>When he opened the door, Trevor stared for an enthralling young gentleman stood with a somber expression plastered onto his face. The gentleman's effluent attire spoke masses. His suit tailored coat was a crème white accented in the finest of gold buttons and hassles; his collard white shirt was enthralled in ruffles that laced down the front of his shirt disappearing into the jacket. He wore matching pants and clean riding boots of black with a gold buckle at the top corners on the outside of the calf. Without warning, the door to his dressing room slammed shut in the Elite's face.</p><p>Light taps came from the other side of the door.</p><p>"Excuse me," a soft, well-versed baritone voice said, "this is the Belmont residence?"</p><p>Trevor sneered at his last name, but he reluctantly yanks the door back open before shouting,</p><p>"I don't live here you arrogant sniveling-"</p><p>"Shall I introduce myself before you finish that statement?"</p><p>"I could give a rat's arse who you are!"</p><p>The Elite simply stands there, before he chuckled slightly amused at Trevor's outburst. This only makes Trevor's blood boil as his hand tightens dangerously around the doorknob handle. The price of hitting an Elite at this moment might result in the loss of his job and his troupe losing more money than it is worth. He couldn't do that to the only people who cared if he lived or died.</p><p>"Trevor," Sypha's stern voice chides him as she steps from behind the Elite.</p><p>Her eyes dig daggers into him, but Trevor ignores her. His deal is with the Elite.</p><p>"You the count?"</p><p>The Elite's eyes narrow, "And why do you ask?"</p><p>"Considering very few know who he is, and they say he's an extravagant fellow, I'd say you fit the bill."</p><p>"I'm afraid you're mistaken."</p><p>Trevor growls before reaching out and shoving the Elite into the wall in three steps. The impact echoes through the narrow hallway. Trevor has his forearm secured tightly into the sternum of the Elite. Trevor searches his eyes. They are fine and feminine- honey- dew dipped irises look down at him in chide disgust. Trevor knows these eyes- the predatory look is the same one from the box.</p><p>"Kindly remove your grubby hands from my person."</p><p>Cold hands wrap out his wrist flicking them back with ease. It is enough to cause Trevor more than a slight discomfort. It is enough to make the Elite smirk at Trevor's grinding teeth.</p><p>"Trevor, stop this." Sypha pulls him away stepping between the two men. Her eyes, however, turn to the Elite. She holds her hand out firmly before revealing a slither of a blade. The other troop members must have understood what was happening because no one interrupts them.</p><p>"Why did you claim to be the Court then?" She asks slowly.</p><p>"Adrian Tepes. I did no such thing. Your grandfather asked did I represent the Count-not if I were him."</p><p>His voice is hypnotic. It's the sway of his words that catch even the most vigilant man in a trance.  </p><p>"Son of the count. Only heir-I suppose I am a prince... Or an earl." He finished with a sigh.</p><p>Trevor snorts. This Tepes idiot really thought to humble himself as if Elites didn't concern themselves with titles- that's all they loved to do.</p><p>"My Elder said you'd be assisting us with tonight and further situations to arise." Sypha nodded in remembrance.</p><p>"Yes."</p><p>"Didn't think a vampire would care to help us lower beings." Trevor mumbled.</p><p>"Dhampir, Belmont. My mother was no different than that of anyone else who is human. I am here to honor her, and someone has put a target on this very theatre meaning they've targeted my family. I cannot let that go unchecked."</p><p>"So, you're like them?" Sypha slowly asks.</p><p>"He ain't ya hero Sypha." Trevor acclaimed. She doesn't acknowledge his comment in the least, but instead nods at Adrian's noble words, while Trevor can feel himself growing nauseous.</p><p>"I didn't know you were her son or one of them," Sypha says softly before she turns to Trevor, "we'll do whatever we can to help."</p><p>Trevor doesn't argue. He can't really say he won't help because once Sypha had her heart set to something, it was bound to be done regardless of others' feelings toward it. She was headstrong and courageous- brilliant and Trevor shook his head lightly.</p><p>"Since Trevor has more experience with hunting and this sort of thing, you two should work on consulting with the local authorities," Sypha explained, "I'll help as much as I can, but my Elder has me busy with the further arrangements of productions and if we'll even be hosting more shows."</p><p>Trevor knew he should have objected. Not only would Sypha be away from him, but now she was leaving him alone with this shriveling git. Times like this he really did regret abandoning alcohol.</p><p>Before he can even complain to her, Sypha's name rings like a bell through the corridors.</p><p>"That's my cue. Keep me informed on what's happening and don't kill each other. Please!"</p><p>Sypha didn't move until they both agreed. Trevor nodded honestly because if he did this then maybe it would earn some good graces with her. Trevor stared after her as she ran towards the main hallway and disappeared behind the door.</p><p>"Who was the man who screamed her name?"</p><p>Trevor's attention falls back onto the Elite who casually readjusts his shirt and undercoat. Those calculating gold eyes fall upon Trevor once again stunning him.</p><p>In a blink of an eye, Adrian has settled himself directly in front of Trevor causing the actor to have to glance up slightly. Trevor quickly moves back towards the door of his dressing room putting distance between them.</p><p>"Hector... Sometimes a stagehand, but mostly an usher. Tonight, he was on shift."</p><p>"He seems rather distraught for a common man over an Elite such as a Diplomat," Adrian examines, "were they close?"</p><p>Trevor taps a finger to his chin. In all his days at the theatre, he never concerned himself with everyone else's business. They never questioned where he ran off too. Hector, however, was a nice lad. He could be childish in a way, smiling and making jokes. He loved animals. His ashen hair was kept long, and his bright eyes beamed whenever a stray cat or dog found its way into the trash. He usually made sure they were well-fed after that.</p><p>"I don't think we should start there." Trevor finally says realizing how quiet it had gotten meaning Hector probably left. Adrian lifts an eyebrow, but Trevor cuts him off before he can speak.</p><p>"The woman died..."</p><p>Trevor stops in his thought. If his hunch was right, Lenore (right?) would have died before she fell off the balcony. That means whoever killed her had attacked her first and drained her, but why? Killing a diplomat did what exactly? Could he trust Adrian with what he saw?</p><p>"Belmont," the irritation in Adrian's tone echoes through the long hall, "What about her death?"</p><p>"I was on stage when it happened," Trevor decides as he changes the course of the conversation, "The lighting made it, so the audience seating was dark, but the stage was bright. Center-forward because Sypha and Morales had just finished their lines. I would be next to speak, so that means the seats were filled. No ushers would allow anymore patrons in during the first act. So, the murderer was in the crowd."</p><p>Adrian smirks, "I had no idea you had a mind connected to that air trap of yours, " a growl great his insult before he continues," I was seated in Box fourteen and her party in five. Her body fell from a few stories up. She would have survived a fall like that unless..." He frowns, before turning away. Trevor follows him.</p><p>"Lenore was dead already before she fell wasn't, she, Belmont?" The question lingers in the air as the pair enters the stage from the left. Trevor can still smell the blood. He can hear the screams, but it is not from tonight's events. This is something different. Out of his view, the stage turns into dirt and around him there is an intense heat in the cool, thick summer air. He smells the roasting chestnuts and firewood. There is a new scent. It is fowl and suffocating. Swallowing back the vile taste of vomit, Trevor nearly chokes as he begins running towards the house. The chants of men burn nearly as hot as the fire consuming his soul. The tears blind him as he rushes towards the fire, but something grabs the back of his collar. A deep voice whispers into his ears.</p><p>"Remember this night, my dear boy. There is no running from the fire for she will always have what she wishes to consume."</p><p>Trevor opens his eyes, gasping for air. His eyes search frantically for light, but there is none. He is surrounded by darkness. Upon, sitting up, the squeaking of old springs informs him, he is back on the couch. Sitting up, Trevor wipes the sweat from his face. His shirt is damp, and his shoes are missing. He looks around again before falling back onto the cushions. Trevor replays what he remembers last. Adrian had led him to the stage. The theatre lights were all on, but after that he can't seem to recall. In a jolt of panic, Trevor feels his neck finding nothing but soothe skin being assaulted by his rough hands. He sighs relief.</p><p>The clock on his wall chimes. It must be three in the morning. It is enough to force Trevor to stand up and gather his belongings. He finds his shoes by the vanity along with his coat. His hands mindlessly gather whatever they can- he stumbles upon a piece of paper. Opening the door of the dressing room, and then to the street, there is enough light outside for him to read what it says.</p><p>I will take the Liberty of questioning some of the Elites. I shall inform you of anything if it concerns you.</p><p>Your insight was valuable.</p><p>Your efforts valiant.</p><p>Your snoring variant.</p><p>~ A.T.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Act Five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It is almost noon when Trevor decided to head to work. The nightmares stalled after he awoke, but sleep remained absent without them. There isn't enough black coffee and stale tea that can replace the growing throb of alcohol. Yet, Trevor sips at the bitter bite left of his morning drink (a mixture of tea and old coffee grinds) as he steps into utter madness.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am writing like a mad man and hopefully you notice the chapters are gradually getting longer. I wanted to have more details and stuff for you guys reading especially you're not familiar with the show. I wanted to write soemthing anyone could read so hoepfully it translates well.<br/>Anyway, wow I have a few readers now and omg thank you for actually reading this like YAY!<br/>More chapters to come.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It is almost noon when Trevor decided to head to work. The nightmares stalled after he awoke, but sleep remained absent without them. There isn't enough black coffee and stale tea that can replace the growing throb of alcohol. Yet, Trevor sips at the bitter bite left of his morning drink (a mixture of tea and old coffee grinds) as he steps into utter madness.</p><p>The rumored murder has spun itself into more than a hundred tales, with no more than a dozen of production themself. It is enough for Trevor to bite his tongue as he listens to one of the dozens explain it was a suicide. One says it was murder. One says it was a pact. All have some truth woven in, though the exact reason is why. One theory suggests it was the eve of the late Dilettante's death, so a madman was honoring it. One theorized the Theatre's phantom did it.</p><p>Trevor, though told that the Prince, would reach out to him if anything were to come up, Trevor didn't understand how a lowly actor could help with a murdered Elite. Yes, he had been the fevered son a long time ago to the lands most feared warriors, but now, he had long passed up living the legacy left by his family. He wasn't a hunter anymore. He wasn't even sure why Alucard insisted on calling him that, but Trevor still wore the family crest with pride. It was all he had left of the Belmonts. He was all that was left of them.</p><p>Trevor didn't think it was a good idea to foster such tattle to either the Elder or the Prince.</p><p>Sypha, however, was another story.</p><p>"I'm worried about Alucard." Sypha confides him as he creeps towards the stage.</p><p>"Why- Oh, well then, he best known what's good for him and stay away." Trevor grumbles.</p><p>"They might mistake him as a phantom- they might believe him to be," she hesitates before speaking again as if the thought pained her so, "the murderer and try to kill him."</p><p>Trevor's expression hardens instantly as Sypha reaches out for condolence. Usually he leans into her shoulder touches, but today, he finds himself shrugging of her warm gesture.</p><p>"Belmont, he has already helped you once," she states, "what if he tries to help again?"</p><p>"Then go talk to him." Trevor spits before going through and marking his new script.</p><p>"Fine. I will" Sypha huffs indigently, but Trevor ignores her as she stomps away from the stage leaving him to his own devices.</p><p>Over the course of the following week, Sypha makes a point to avoid Trevor's gaze. Due to their parts, the pair are constantly working together, though, they rehearse alone. With Trevor busy learning lines and helping with props, he doesn't bother to pursue her. The sisters from the night before (or what Trevor assumes them to be) come to speak with Sypha and her grandfather regarding their statements and to collect their refund. Besides that, the theatre is no different than it was before.</p><p>Out of the blue, Trevor feels a strange feeling come over him before he looks up finding Sypha nodding at him. It is right before the main rehearsal where she pulls him aside before mentioning,</p><p>"This is only for the smaller parts since we've covered ours. Its best to let them have their moments without the shadow of an audience."</p><p>"Huh," Trevor nods catching eyes with one of the younger actresses who smiles at him before covering her mouth and giggling to her friends.</p><p>"How long until we run the first number together?"</p><p>"Give 'em about an hour to an hour and a half." Sypha shrugs squeezing his hand. He relaxes at her touch missing her more than he realized. She smiles up at him before letting go with a light blush on her cheeks.</p><p>Trevor smiles back weakly before taking his leave. It takes him a few minutes to reach the stairway having to stop by his room to drop off some of the extra clothes for the show. Finding himself at the top of the stairs descending into the catacombs of the city, Trevor walks hastily. No one greets him as he weaves through the column supporting the floor above him and skips over cracked stones. Everything he does is by muscle memory fleeing his way for the grand metal door that'll lead him to the tomb like space.</p><p>Upon reaching the door, Trevor finds the small lantern Sypha keeps hidden under a barrel before lighting it with a matchstick he kept in the buckle of his shoe. The walk down here seemed longer than it usually was. Trevor's fingers twitched slightly as he trekked only his footsteps to accompany him. Was this the way he'd gone before?</p><p>The door is open surprisingly. Trevor steps through the threshold taking in what is before him. There is no man seated at the piano, but instead, laying down in the coffin like bed. The plush fabrics weave around his body outlining a tall and slightly lanky frame. The black cape is firmly tucked around him like darkness itself- Alucard was expecting his arrival.</p><p>The musician does not even utter a word as Trevor finds his wall and leans against it crossing his arms and closing his eyes. Somehow all his anxious thoughts and anger wash away as he listens to the sound of light breaths.</p><p>Was he asleep?</p><p>"Morning." Trevor calls.</p><p>"Hm," Alucard says shifting slightly as to face him. It is the single word of 'Hunter' that goes without comment.</p><p>"How's the verses of the first act?</p><p>"Libretto? It is refined."</p><p>"And you?"</p><p>"Rather worn-out" Alucard hums dramatically as to make a statement for his bed-ridden composure.</p><p>"I suppose that means you'll be denying me a preview." Trevor nearly manages to make it towards the door before a cool rush of air hits the back of his neck making the hairs rise. Behind him soft piano keys press lightly under the weight of slender fingers as if under the impression of playing for the first time: it is a cautious sound.</p><p>Trevor turns to find Alucard looking his way. There are no words needed as Trevor accepts this as his invitation to return to his post. </p><p>Alucard raises his fingers before looking up at Trevor once last time as if to say, "Are you ready?" </p><p>Trevor rolls his eyes and nods rolling his index and middle finger in a gesture of continuation. </p><p>The fingers melt into the keys and with the light stroke of the up the instrument, wrists snap into place as music fills the musty air.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Act Six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Are you familiar with of the 'Sleeping Soldier of Gresit' legend?"</p><p>The question catches Trevor off guard as he is preoccupied rehearsing his lines. His dark eyes fix themselves on the shadow of a man leaning on the piano scribbling his own notes.</p><p>"Yea, Sypha loves that story."</p><p>His response is met with a snort.</p><p>"You believe it to be just that?" Alucard's questioning tone has an edge to it.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Been updating the story and made it longer. I broke some of the chapters down, so just pay attention if you were further ahead or not in the story.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are you familiar with of the 'Sleeping Soldier of Gresit' legend?"</p><p>The question catches Trevor off guard as he is preoccupied rehearsing his lines. His dark eyes fix themselves on the shadow of a man leaning on the piano scribbling his own notes.</p><p>"Yea, Sypha loves that story."</p><p>His response is met with a snort.</p><p>"You believe it to be just that?" Alucard's questioning tone has an edge to it.</p><p>"Yes, you daft git. You can't actually think that it's truth?" Trevor catches the slight pause in the pianist's fingers before they continue to scribble whatever it is, he was writing.</p><p>"That story" Alucard hisses, "is what I am basing my tragedy on. I shall be rewriting the legend based on the prefixes of telling the tale through the third eye."</p><p>"But, it's a story about Dracula. So, it's traditionally told through the eyes of the heroes. When my moth- when I was told about it, I was told about the chasseur. Sypha was told by her Elder about the scholar."</p><p>"Yes, I am aware, but those are all known accounts," Alucard persists, "What if the story didn't just have one or two account, but a perplexity of different anecdotes."</p><p>Trevor rolled his eyes in an exaggerated manner. He never knew whether he was impressed or downright agitated by Alucard's random bursts of genius.</p><p>"Look here," Trevor reasoned, "it is a legend about some heroes. I don't see how it can be refurbished into a tragedy when there isn't one."</p><p>"And? Hunter, the story behind it is a tragedy. Three unlikely heroes torn between service and justice. They're up against indestructible odds and an army," Alucard counters, "And torn between trust and prejudices as well as love."</p><p>"Love?" Trevor cackles, "I don't know about all that, but it is still a heroic story. It's to uplift and give the people strength."</p><p>"I guarantee it will. The audience shall eat it up watching how the band of heroes isn't any more different than they are. Each one with their own issue to overcome. Some more than others."</p><p>Trevor runs a hand through his hair.</p><p>"I suppose I get tired of seeing happy imbecilic fools running around making gold out of rocks when there's nothing more to it. Not every story is supposed to be happy and not every story that ends with a triumphant ending means that everyone is happy."</p><p>"Does each character have a reason to be unhappy?" Trevor questions.</p><p>"Certainly."</p><p>"Then make sure to say why."</p><p>"How come?" Alucard asks raising one of his hands to his face in a mid-gesture for Trevor to continue his thoughts.</p><p>Trevor sighs placing his script on the floor.</p><p>"Sypha might be more helpful since she actually reads for fun, but human nature is usually to emphasize. People want to be acknowledged, heck even be seen, so your characters have to have clear ambitions. A reason for the heroes to bequest that. If it's a tragedy, then make your villains relatable enough for us to almost sympathize before giving us a reason to hate them-this inner turmoil in the plot will lead to the audience reflect their own emotions onto the characters."</p><p>"I see," Alucard nods, "The men fighting for Dracula are doomed idiots knowing there will be no victory in a desolate place."</p><p>"Uh, sure, whateva you just said."</p><p>"You had another thought?"</p><p>"Well no one follows a dying man to his grave, unless they too have nothing left to live for. There's something naïve about a lil bastard being led astray from the light only to see that it is too late and he's scrambling to fly away with clipped wings."</p><p>Alucard's hand falls and he cocks his head in a skeptical manner. Trevor almost laughs, knowing this manner well. For all his wishful living, Alucard was bred an aristocrat and as such, doesn't condom swear. Trevor usually is good with his tongue knowing how prude Sypha and her grandfather get when they hear it.</p><p>"Look," Trevor says clearing the air, "pick a character at best and write the tragedy within the subplot."</p><p>"Tedious at best."</p><p>"Dracula dies."</p><p>"Dramatically, yes in act three."</p><p>"Then they'll be satisfied with watching him suffer as any other person would be- before seeing his downfall."</p><p>The silence met by this statement makes Trevor uneasy. At times, he really could read a situation wrong and be completely ignorant. Had he been? It was a character after all? Alucard lets out a shaky breath.</p><p>"No one should suffer." He almost whispers.</p><p>Trevor nods in agreement</p><p>"We all do though," Alucard perks up, his voice slightly strained, "so, I suppose watching him grieve shall induce some effect on the audience."</p><p>"The people shall speak of this story for ages."</p><p>"If done correctly."</p><p>Trevor glances around to find the small clock that hangs haphazardly on one of the strange spiraled columns. He is due to run his lines soon.</p><p>"Hunter!"</p><p>The sudden sharp tone of his name being called makes him turn his head to find Alucard looming over him.</p><p>"I was speaking, and you were off daydreaming."</p><p>There's an authoritative air to his tone. A demanding, snobbish tone, but one Trevor has heard before.</p><p>"When I speak, you should listen."</p><p>"Alucard, when you speak, I am not of obligation to do anything, but if you must know I have an actual paying job other than be your personal oralist." Trevor remarks. Alucard seems to almost recoil at the tone, but not without leaning over Trevor in a defiant stance.</p><p>Trevor stands.</p><p>Though he is shorter, his broader shoulders and wider biceps make up for the awkward size up. Alucard doesn't back down.</p><p>"Anything else?" Trevor asks.</p><p>Alucard takes two steps back and sighs, "Act two needs some revisions especially for the combat scenes."</p><p>Trevor nods slightly put off by what had occurred a moment ago. Whatever it was, the strange tension is dismissed by Alucard completely.</p><p>"Right, off you go, Hunter. The show must go on. I believe it is your character that shall be the one to fight the bear, no?"</p><p>Trevor opens his mouth to say something but decides against it and nods.</p><p>"Yes, well, Act Two needs a more personal account since our characters will be revisiting an old establishment to obtain the knowledge they need. I am not as familiar with the old families and their crests as you are."</p><p>Trevor grinds his teeth at the mention of old families.</p><p>"How would that help?"</p><p>Alucard waves his hand as if it tires him so to explain.</p><p>"Considering your worn crest on your shirt and the fact that you introduced yourself as Belmont, you are well aware of the history behind most of these stories."</p><p>Alucard turns his attention onto the actor, his eyes like a pale yellow in the low lighting.</p><p>"A true tragedy it was, wasn't it?" His voice is low and empty.</p><p>Trevor stiffens at the fact that before now he hadn't talked about anything truly personal, but in this moment, Alucard's sharp eyes and unseen smirk tell him everything he needs to know. Before he can do anything rash, Trevor snatches his script and trudges toward the door.</p><p>"You're not the only character in the story Hunter."</p><p>The words are barely audible except for him to hear. Trevor flinches before taking a deep breath. He stumbles over the words to apologize, but then he doesn't know why he is sorry, so in turn, he nods towards the pianist and leaves shaking off the strange feeling of being watched.</p><p>Props and lines don't go without mention. There is a new stage to be set and new characters to be created. The Elder informs them of their extended stay in the city and the need for some rest. During the day, they cater to a few commoners and their families, but at night, it is usually reserved for Elites and a few of the established upperclassmen.</p><p>Autumn is beginning to fold into winter bringing chills, sniffles, and running fevers. Trevor notes how Sypha works to avoid the pit crew who catch the flu immediately. Then there are the stagehands who find themselves in sickness as their kisses tickle the throats of the singers.</p><p>Every winter this happens, and Trevor can't help but try to avoid anyone who looks as if death has come to stay for the night. Sypha holds herself up in her dressing room engrossing herself in old texts and a few medical books. Her collection of reading material only grows as Adrian adds to the list of great classics. When they're not acting or going out and promoting the show in the blistering cold or avoiding the ill, she is studying.</p><p>"I am a boffin in a sense," She once told Trevor. "I study the oral history of my family and my people. Of everyone."</p><p>He can only shake his own head and pull her away from the books to rest and eat. They work around the clock especially with the illness rising. One of the stagehands neglects to inform them of the furnace being broken, dropping the temperature of the theatre to a bitter cold that makes Trevor's feet numb.</p><p>The seamstress, an older woman with graying hairs and small kind eyes that age her plump face, walks up to Trevor as he helps backstage.</p><p>He doesn't notice her at first for he's busy instructing the crew of which colors to paint the background. A light tap on his shoulder forces him to turn around. She holds up a pair of thick wool socks. He smiles faintly, thanking her.</p><p>"Djuvara." She nods, bowing.</p><p>Trevor slips off his boots and begins pulling the socks on that form to his feet wonderfully.</p><p>"Thank you."</p><p>"Of course," she hesitates, "I must ask, how good are you with a needle lass?"</p><p>Trevor shrugs.</p><p>And that's how he finds himself in debt to the seamstress who is sturdier than she looks. Her small arms are strong and her fingers nimble. Her voice is grandmotherly and sweet. Trevor is in her company for more than most of his days in-between practice for lunch breaks. With her companionship comes gossip.</p><p>"Ole my dear boy," she starts, "I believe us over our heads."</p><p>"But you know how to fix it, right?" Trevor almost pleads as he holds up another costume glancing at the several that need to be altered.</p><p>"Yes, though, the designs are a bit different than what my old fingers are use too."</p><p>"We can always ask the Elder for help." Trevor reminds her.</p><p>The older woman stops rocking in her chair as she sighs.</p><p>"So much has changed, my dear boy."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>She hesitates, before going back to sewing up a sleeve. Trevor can see her eyes formulating the thought, but she doesn't say anything. After a few moments, Trevor gets up to leave when he hears,</p><p>"Tempers fly, especially after what happened with Hector. The Elder knows this too, but we all worked with Hector. We all know him, yet he allowed himself to get wrapped up in something that is beyond his control... not to speak ill of the dead, but that woman was not who she appeared to be."</p><p>Trevor turns to face her.</p><p>She continues, "When they saw him run to her, call her, by her first name, well it sent spirits flying. It put a target on us... just, we all wanted to help and make sure he was ok, but the boy won't speak a word to anyone except his animals and it is quite beyond the Elder's control. That woman, she filled his head with darkness. Elites are what they are, but I knew someone like him once who thought we could all walk as equals. Her fate was no better than what Hector has been handed. Things are unrest."</p><p>"Unrest how?"</p><p>"Well," she collects herself before ushering him closer. Trevor obliges before he is kneeling in front of her as she whispers, "something is amiss."</p><p>Trevor shakes his head at this information.</p><p>"The elder..."</p><p>"The elder doesn't know," she sighs, "and who are we to tell because Hector will take the fall and he has already dug himself a hole."</p><p>"How?"</p><p>"Unless, the phantom is into leather boots and gold buckles and brass, they are missing. Hector is one of the few who handle some of the props as well." She reminds him.</p><p>Trevor nods, "Is there anyone else desperate enough to steal from Speakers?"</p><p>"Everyone," she huffs, "People don't like their kind traveling around telling stories that demean from what they know. Yes, it is refreshing, but not everyone finds it that way, so enemies are aplenty the further we travel."</p><p>"Only a few of us have those items," Trevor counters, "how are they stealing if we keep our personals on us?"</p><p>"My boy, not everything is kept in once place. The more expensive items for the bigger shows are missing a few pieces, as well as, the finer fabrics I like to use for some of the singers."</p><p>"And they run for a good price, I bet."</p><p>Mrs. Djuvara nods reluctantly.</p><p>"You are going to have to say something." He decides.</p><p>"I know, I know, but with so much going on, it just didn't seem right to cause more strife."</p><p>Trevor can see the grief in her face. She truly is concerned about everyone.</p><p>"Well, regardless," Trevor decides, "it's the overseers' job to make sure everything runs straight, and inventory is accounted for."</p><p>She nods agreeing, "unless they know already and ignore it."</p><p>Trevor grimaces.</p><p>He doubts Sypha or the other speakers would do something like that. It wasn't in their principal, but the others amongst them were not as caring.</p><p>"Maybe we blame the phantom?" Mrs. Djuvara suggests.</p><p>Trevor shakes his head dismissingly.</p><p>"We already had half the pit get sick and two of our lead speakers get locked in their dressing rooms. The phantom has overextended itself."</p><p>"Busy thing."</p><p>"Busy indeed."</p><p>A collective silence falls amongst the two as they stare out into space. Mrs. Djuvara picks up her needle and thread again as she finds her rhythm. Her eyes sparkle with youth as a smile forms on her face.</p><p>"My dear boy, I've kept you long enough. Make sure to keep those feet wrapped up and thank you for pleasuring an old woman with conversation."</p><p>Trevor shakes his head with fondness, "Never a dull moment Mrs. Djuvara. Try to stay out of trouble."</p><p>"Ah, you too, my dear boy."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Act Seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"You spend a lot of time writing at night, right?"</p><p>Slowly descending a scale on the keys, Alucard shifts his attention from practicing to stare at Trevor.</p><p>"Ya now, you're basically nocturnal." Trevor reminds him from the times he's caught Alucard sleeping throughout the day.</p><p>"Have you seen anything, uh, suspicious going on?"</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"Well, someone is stealing from the Speakers- or framing them."</p><p>"A thief?"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm going to wrapping this up quite soon. I don't expect to exceed 50,000 words, but I'm thinking of making this a series. I kinda like what I've done. Thank you for reading and please continue.<br/>(I really like this chapter personally)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You spend a lot of time writing at night, right?"</p><p>Slowly descending a scale on the keys, Alucard shifts his attention from practicing to stare at Trevor.</p><p>"Ya know, you're basically nocturnal." Trevor reminds him from the times he's caught Alucard sleeping throughout the day.</p><p>"Have you seen anything, uh, suspicious going on?"</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"Well, someone is stealing from the Speakers- or framing them."</p><p>"A thief?"</p><p>"Well, yes, but have you seen anything?"</p><p>"Not really my concern."</p><p>Alucard began to review the scales again, turning all his attention back to the piano.</p><p>"It is your concern if we have to leave!" Trevor argued at the blatant dismissal of his concerns.</p><p>"Hunter, my work is important. There will be others to come along and act at this theatre, but my work will go on- with or without you."</p><p>"And Sypha?" Trevor added, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>His question was left unanswered.</p><p>"Right," Trevor says as too much time passes, before shifting in his seat and finally standing up, "I see you've got this all figured out."</p><p>"Where are you-are you leaving?" At this Alucard does stand up in one swift motion almost blocking the door.</p><p>Trevor grinds his teeth, "Move it!"</p><p>Alucard doesn't even flinch as Trevor pushes past him.</p><p>"I will keep my eyes open for anything."</p><p>It is a low, guttural response. One that means Alucard is swallowing his pride, though it hurts him so. The reason behind it makes Trevor smile to himself before eyeing the shadow of a man.</p><p>"Winter is here, and I know what it's like to live out in the cold." Trevor states.</p><p>"And?"</p><p>"And it would be nice to avoid putting false accusations on some of the good people for need the money."</p><p>"I didn't think you cared Hunter." Alucard remarks.</p><p>"I do."</p><p>"Are you to save them Hunter?" He muses.</p><p>Trevor shakes his head, "No more than their sleeping soldier who happens to be but a figment of their imagination."</p><p>"Ah I see, ever the protector. Ever a true Belmont."</p><p>It was the first time Alucard had ever said his name or rather a rendition of it.</p><p>"I have some duty to protect the people I work with. That much I can do."</p><p>"Would you protect me?"</p><p>The question needs no answer as Trevor stares into the candle fire behind Alucard. The man moves back towards his piano, dramatically flaring his cape over the bench and taking a seat.</p><p>"And that is where we hit the root of the argument."</p><p>"I didn't think we were arguing."</p><p>"But we are. You think of me to be dangerous. I can see it in your movements. Sypha spoke fondly about her concerns once."</p><p>Sypha told Alucard about him? Something in the way the sentence was worded made Trevor tighten his hands into fist. He wasn't one to share his thoughts. Alucard must sense the actor's weariness because he immediately answers.</p><p>"Don't be daft. She asked if I had seen the murderer? I said I had been asleep at the time. Regardless, you still have been on edge which suggests there's something more."</p><p>"The cape doesn't help." Trevor suggested which he expected the reaction from Alucard was a soft chuckle.</p><p>"Ah, it does not. I suppose finding a sleeping man under the city's catacombs is by far a startling revelation"</p><p>"Says the man who was sleeping down here."</p><p>"Ah, and yet, you come back. I'd say, if anything you are curious."</p><p>"Curious?"</p><p>Alucard hums thoughtfully, "The chasseur, the scholar, the soldier... we are officially at the point they meet. In these very catacombs, I might add."</p><p>Trevor glances around the room before setting his sights on the piano.</p><p>"You know the soldier and the chasseur will duel it out," Trevor adds wryly, "after all, you can't trust a man sleeping in a coffin."</p><p>Two more items go missing, before Trevor has a chance to ask Alucard who believes is the thief. At this, two of the singers that help Mrs. Djuvara had resigned in anger. It was their artifacts that had been stolen. The older woman is nothing but guilt-ridden, having been in charge of making sure all the costumes were securely locked up. Even when the items are replaced, the fact that the thefts have ceased means the culprit is waiting for more of an audience to ruin the Speakers.</p><p>As the weeks progress, it only gets worse as the streets murmur of the distrusting Speakers who walk with pride, regardless, going to the market to support their show. Their blue and tan robes flare in the harsh winds. If Trevor didn't look twice, he'd think the group were almost floating upon air. In the same week of promotion, one of the Speakers is found with a stolen gold bracelet in their possession.</p><p>It causes quite the outcry as one of the singers demands justice and an investigation ensues. All the while, the speakers gather confused. None of the them would do such a crime and it makes Trevor wonder how easily it would be to throw on one of their robes and pretend to be a part of their group.</p><p>These thoughts don't go unheard as he sits with his back to the wall and hands flaring in heated anger after seeing the distraught looks on both Sypha's and her grandfather's face after letting another Speaker go home.</p><p>"You are quite upset. As was Sypha." Alucard mentions at their next meeting. Sypha had taken a few days off with the other Speakers to regroup with old companions.</p><p>"Well, these people treat them like dirt and they just want to share their history through art. I don't think it's justified."</p><p>"It wasn't the boy."</p><p>"What'd ya mean," Trevor asks, "I'm sure Sypha told you about everything going on, but you know he's innocent?"</p><p>"Because it is against their code and the gold bracelet had a smudge of lipstick on it." Alucard states flatly.</p><p>"Yeah, but like how would you know that?"</p><p>"I took a look for myself upon your request."</p><p>Trevor feels a tinge of guilt knowing how badly that could have gone. However, Sypha would be awed to hear her this news.</p><p>"I didn't expect you to-"</p><p>"Yes, I know, but how was I to 'keep an eye out' if I am down here? Besides, I am rather fond of the Speakers."</p><p>Something in his tone is light and Trevor can't miss the meaning behind it. If he meant Sypha then it made sense because why else would Alucard risk his current state on a simply good whim of gesture.</p><p>Instead of replying though, Trevor just accepts it.</p><p>"Well, don't be reckless. After Hector, everyone is a bit more on edge. We don't need to be cleaning up Alucard guts on top of everything else." Trevor warns.</p><p>"Ah, but would they if I am in fact the phantom?"</p><p>Trevor snorts, "If I've learned anything from my youth, it is that people will do anything to destroy what they don't understand."</p><p>"And yet you continue to try and protect them?" The grin on his face may be hidden, but Trevor can still make out the boyish laughter following. It is a light sound that usually doesn't greet them often, but it helps to ease the heaviness.</p><p>"I'm no philosopher, but I'd hate to have to come save your sorry arse."</p><p>"Duly noted. I shall not venture though. It was a simply favor out of good faith that you'll continue to help me in my endeavors."</p><p>The glee is short lived and they both settle down within themselves. It is that of two people thinking of something, but both being too keen to truly say what the other may be thinking. It is not as if they are friends.</p><p>Trevor finds himself curious in asking, "Do you go up there?"</p><p>"Occasionally. Rather often if I am to be frank. I shall take a nice jog or venture off to one of the stands in the central marketplace. Other times, a nice walk through the woods is what I need to clear my head."</p><p>"No mask of course." He adds after resting his hands upon his lap somberly.</p><p>"Ever seen a show?" Trevor pushes.</p><p>"Yes, I have seen quite a few. Your acting is... unorthodox."</p><p>Whether it was a compliment or insult, Trevor can't tell and doesn't question. Some things were better left unsaid.</p><p>Between the flu and cold front of the thefts, there is plenty to do. There is a show tonight meaning the pre-show nerves settle upon everyone. It's not every day they cater to Elites, but even when they do, the nerves are much higher. The dancers stumble through their parts, while the singers struggle to push their voices a tad higher than usual. As for the Speakers, they are quietly trying to remember the story being told tonight. Among the chaos, is Trevor watching from afar. The Elder smiles at him often as he converses with one of his pupils.</p><p>Trevor can't hear them, but he knows something important is happening tonight. It is enough to distract him from seeking out Sypha's company or that of slipping into the catacombs. Since Alucard told him off as he writes the sleeping soldier's tragedy; it leaves him fully engrossed. Sypha made him promise to stay away and not bother Alucard. Usually Trevor wouldn't bother to keep his promises, but he was busy with preparations and props.</p><p>Whether his choice was good or not, Trevor is glad he didn't venture off. He finds himself sought after by another usher.</p><p>"Mr. Belmont, your presence has been requested by Box Fourteen." He reassures Belmont who automatically feels queasy.</p><p>He nods before adjusting his coat and running a hand through his wild hair trying to flatten it down.</p><p>Trevor steps grow faster as he reaches for Box Fourteen's door. The door falls open without effort and the candles shine from the outside of the spacious room silhouettes the four members. Trevor instantly recognizes the woman, the baroness, from before as her eyes glow red like rubies in the darkness. She turns and flashes a wicked smile.</p><p>"My, my, if it isn't my favorite lil actor." Her voice is low and predatorily. There is nothing sincere or calming about it.</p><p>Polite banter turns ravenous when the merchant, Isaac murmurs something to Carmilla. She huffs crossing her arms in protest. All the while, Trevor's attention is on the two other patrons who remain rather pensive. The Prince and the Count do not greet him much, instead the Count soothes things over with the usher to provide another chair.</p><p>"Tonight Belmont, I believe you will give us the honor of sitting with us until the show starts."</p><p>This request is more of a statement and judging by the looks on their faces, Trevor has no choice. A seat is provided for him beside Adrian Tepes in the far-left corner, the merchant to his left, the count in the center and the baroness nearest to the door.</p><p>Conversations flow around him as Trevor tries to gather his bearings. He's never sat in one of the prime seats before, nevertheless, a box seat. It is both new and yet strangely agitating to him. There is more than thirty minutes before the show starts and he rather be behind stage chatting amongst his fellow troupe than sitting beside hubristic and let's be honest, dangerous Elites.</p><p>As if reading his mind, he hears a deep voice whisper,</p><p>"Don't speak."</p><p>Trevor turns to Adrian almost jumping out of his skin. Those golden eyes glow inhumanely in the low lighting reminding him of fire itself.</p><p>Adrian doesn't acknowledge him further, in fact, his attention falls upon the stage. Trevor follows his gaze only to find Sypha standing there as a light test is being done. Her face glistens beautifully and her short, autumn colored hair is recognizable, but it's her smile that is iridescent. She will be the first to speak tonight. Trevor feels his stomach twist as Adrian follows her steps.</p><p>Chancing another glance towards Adrian, he finds the man's expression is no more placid than before. There is no smile or heart-felt flutter of a man in love. It is a hard-set face- one that seems troubled.</p><p>"I wasn't going to." Trevor responds finding his tongue.</p><p>Adrian's side eyes him, the sharpness of his gaze sweeping over Trevor no softer than that of a blizzard's wind. All the same, Trevor is left feeling cold and exposed. Adrian turns back to the stage, huffing out a bored sigh, Trevor watches him from the corner of his eyes. The prince looked nothing like the other Elites he had seen.</p><p>Maybe it was his humanistic features that made him more wholesome. No, there was a better word, but Trevor honestly couldn't think of one. The Elite didn't have a sickening pale skin tone, but a crème, lighter than what was normal, but at least he looked alive. His hair was gold as if sun-kissed cascading down his back freely. His face was long and angular.</p><p>It was rather odd. When the usher comes back to escort Trevor to the stage, he can feel all their eyes on his backside. It isn't until he is halfway out the door, before he hears a faint</p><p>"Merde Belmont."</p><p>Trevor glances back, up no one comes forward to say who said it though he believes he knows. As the show begins, Trevor's nerves amplify. He is to sing tonight. He hates his voice. It didn't help that a tenor wasn't his natural tone- he was a baritone at best. The evening passes without events just as it should have the first time. Sypha's narrating is both brilliant and descriptive keeping the audience on edge. There are few who can argue she is just a step from genius in her delivery. Trevor can feel her radiant energy from across the stage as he steps into the spotlight. His eyes are blinded temporarily before everything comes into view.</p><p>The audience is basically a sea of glowing pupils, each looking feverishly mad. It is enough to drown a man in his own fears. Trevor dares a step closer, just as the music begins. He feels his throat vibrate. He knows the words. They pass through his lips like air as he lets go of everything up to this moment. There is silence all around him and a slight buzzing in his ear which may just have been his own heartbeat.</p><p>Trevor stands firm, calm, and confident. He remembers the voice lessons his mother use to give him. She would coach him on as her music filled their lively living room. There was no a morning left unsung. Behind her grand piano, there she sat, her fingers playing along to few French love songs she knew. The only songs Trevor ever thought to memorize in order to gain her favor. It was truly the only time he remembered her smiling at him from across the room and he felt happy. His love for the musical arts grew in secret as he found himself humming lowly on his nights out with his father whose adamant disapproval always left Trevor feeling hollow. Trevor can smell the hint of iron of on the tip of his tongue as he goes higher. The large hands that fall upon his soft flesh pound it into muscle. His throat constricts as he reaches the crescendo of his performance. There is no air left in his lungs. An arm falls upon his throat leaving the blue and black bruises scattered as like the notes his mother taught him to read. The disappointment in a man's eyes as he screams. The same screams that burn in the fire. The smoke rises and so does the boy who finds that fire does truly love the sound of his voice. She kisses every inch of him until there is nothing left. All of the love and the pain; all the secret midday lessons with his mother; to the fire, and to the days alone left for dead crush Trevor's vocal cords causing him to choke up everything he has left.</p><p>The sound of his own voice ringing as he hits the finally note is enough to make his vision blurry as he tilts his head up toward the ceiling. He extends his arms and belches whatever few notes shall arise. Trevor lets the note hang loosely in the heated air, loud and clear, before closing his mouth. He inhales forgetting his surroundings for a moment. His arms fall heavy to his side no longer being able to support themselves. He hadn't even taken a breath since he started singing. Around him, the world is still as if time has stop completely. Before his eyes, Trevor sees her looking at him straight from box seven. It is a woman, draped in a dark cloak. Her blonde braid falls heavily upon her shoulders, but he can just make out her outline as she looks up at him and for a second, he swears she dips her head and nods approvingly before vanishing in the eruption of the theatre.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Act Eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trevor spots Sypha in the corner behind the current with tears sparkling at the corners of her blue eyes that truly resemble the ocean. The applause is loud and there are even hoots and hollers. Trevor bows as he should before rising. He spots Box Fourteen where all four figures are on their feet clapping. It shocks him enough to remember to depart the stage wanting to run away from it all.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Completely didn't expect it to take me so long to update but this chapter took me no time (wish that could be said of the further chapters). Hope you read and enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Trevor spots Sypha in the corner behind the current with tears sparkling at the corners of her blue eyes that truly resemble the ocean. The applause is loud and there are even hoots and hollers. Trevor bows as he should before rising. He spots Box Fourteen where all four figures are on their feet clapping. It shocks him enough to remember to depart the stage wanting to run away from it all.</p><p>Back stage, there is nothing but smiles and congratulations. The next scene is prepped and the night ends on a high note. As the Elites flock to the foyer or linger in their chairs, Trevor makes his way swiftly to his dressing room. He shuts the door before sinking slowly down to the floor: exhausted.</p><p>His eyes are blurry and his throat his hoarse. Whenever he blinks, he sees the woman standing there. Whoever she was is probably long gone, so why did she seem so familiar? Before he can ponder any further, a knock at his door interrupts his thoughts.</p><p>Trevor opens it without hesitation before nearly jumping back towards the couch. None of than the Count stands there with Adrian at his side. Draped in all black like the last time Trevor had seen him, the Elite stands tall and boding. His dark, crimson eyes fall upon Trevor before glancing around at the small dressing room. He makes no sudden move to walk into the newfound territory and Trevor wonders if the old rumor of Elites needing permission is all but telltale. Without further a due, the Count bows his head slightly, strands of long, obsidian colored hair falling into his face. The rest is neatly tied behind his back into a ponytail. It is refined and distinguished-neat and clean.</p><p>"I have to say it was a privilege to see you perform, Mr. Belmont. I have not heard a voice like that in some time."</p><p>The compliment doesn't go unanswered as Trevor humbly accepts it. The Count regains his full height nearly towering over both men in his presence. He is intimidating, but there is something else. Trevor lets out a breath trying to clear his pounding head nearly forgetting Adrian who somehow sneaks past the Count and pushes something into Trevor's face.</p><p>It was an ostentatious bouquet. The flowers are none other than beautiful roses of all colors and shades. It was that of a gift to a lover or duke rather than a gritty actor at a community theatre.</p><p>"For you, from Lady Carmilla- the baroness." He grunts.</p><p>Trevor nods feeling his face warm. It isn't the first time he's been gifted something, but no Elite has ever showed much interest in his performance.</p><p>"Tell her these are almost too much to ask for."</p><p>"Do not be modest Mr. Belmont," the Count speaks up, "these roses are nothing more than a curtesy. Think nothing of them." The innocuous comment meant nothing to Trevor. He knew that the bouquet was of no expensive and did nothing to an Elite's pocket. Still, he had to wonder why she would give him something like this and why not in person.</p><p>"I do say Belmont, you'd think you'd be happy to receive such a luxurious gift." Adrian speaks up. His eyes are everywhere but looking at Trevor as if he is nervous.</p><p>"I am. I appreciate this truly."</p><p>The Count nods once more. His pale skin resembling the moon in the candlelight as he steps back into the threshold of the hallway.</p><p>"I might ask where the Elder would be tonight?"</p><p>"Oh, yes. Most likely in the sales office or probably around here checking on the actors." Trevor supplies.</p><p>The Count walks off, his dark cape making it look as if he is diaphanous, walking on air. It is truly unnerving.</p><p>"To whom were you referring to?" Adrian asks speaking up.</p><p>Trevor instantly snaps his head away from the door finding the Elite hovered over his vanity. His eyes fall upon the only item worth looking at: it is a simple portrait of a woman, a man, and a child. They don't smile except the boy who is scolded immediately after for not being proper.</p><p>"I beg your pardon?"</p><p>Adrian looks up. His clairvoyant eyes seem to burn holes into Trevor's forehead.</p><p>"My father, you said the Elder visits actors. To whom would that be?"</p><p>"Uh, everyone you saw on stage."</p><p>"I don't mean to confuse you, but you too are one of those actors." Adrian seems to be reminding him.</p><p>Trevor nods before setting the flowers down by the couch on a small stand.</p><p>"Yes, but the Elder likes to acknowledge the other talent." Trevor says.</p><p>"And to whom would that be? Would you dare give the Count such menial directions without having a destination in mind." He turns his back to Trevor again, facing the vanity once more. His face is reflected in the mirror as he leans on both of his arms seemingly exhausted. He catches Trevor's face and smiles slowly.</p><p>"I would not. It is whoever the Elder sees fit to see first."</p><p>"Whom"</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"Whomever, Belmont."</p><p>The conversation drawls on too long before Trevor can officially tell when his patience is being tested. The deference of the situation does nothing but agitate Adrian as well as he prattles on about the show and his theatrical knowledge. It is both impressive and obscene as Adrian flirts the line between knowledgeable and rude. Trevor is careful to watch himself (this time) for whatever he says can retort back to him.</p><p>As the night passes, Trevor finds himself ameliorate in mood when he finally receives a sandwich and some cider from Sypha who has finished her rounds.</p><p>"Adrian!" She calls in a cooing manner. His smile meets hers and she rushes past Trevor to embrace the Elite. Trevor leans against the door taking a sip of his hot cider watching them interact. It is a strange portrayal of honest affection. Adrian snatches up Sypha's wrist before gently laying a kiss upon her skin: it is the ultimate gesture of chivalry. Sypha turns her head away with a light blush that is almost hidden by the angle of the lighting in the room.</p><p>Trevor doesn't make a sound as he sways in the doorway watching the display. It is not unlike Sypha to be friendly, but it is strange to see her face show such pure delight. Her eyes closed and she bobbed her head back as Adrian spoke softly.</p><p>"It has been too long." She beamed up at him, before glancing around spotting Trevor in the corner. The faintness of Adrian's chuckle dies down as both pairs of eyes settle upon him and Sypha's smile falters into almost lucid confusion.</p><p>"Ah, my father was trying to give his approval of Belmont's performance and we were discussing where to find your Elder."</p><p>"Oh, he is now back in the lobby making arrangements for two Elites."</p><p>"Good then. My father shall probably not dally on formalities. Belmont, seems you got off easy tonight and enjoy the flowers...I'm especially fond of the white roses." He says as he plucks one from the nearby bouquet. Twirling it with his fingers, he gently tucks it behind Sypha's ear and smiles.</p><p>"Una dichiarazione di nuovo amore."</p><p>Sypha shakes her head teasingly. Adrian walks past him without a second glance. </p><p> </p><p>The night prolongs into what Trevor refers to as the "after show after glow." After parting ways with Sypha, Trevor heads to the stage to lend a hand. The props are broken down and cleaned off. As the illness spreads, there are no precautions skipped over. Every so often, Trevor find his gaze rising to look out beyond the seats to see the far-right corner door slightly cracked as light pools into the darkness. Sometimes, he's expecting to see a cloaked figure and other times, he is waiting for the woman to return.</p><p>In duality, Trevor does not know what he would prefer to see. His eyes feel dry even as he blinks more, but he can't shake the feeling he is being watched. It is the same feeling that he gets in the catacombs. It is the same feeling he's felt since he stepped foot into this town, and it is the same feeling that will burn a hole into the back of his head if he does not silence it. </p><p> </p><p>"You're late." Alucard hisses.</p><p>Trevor frowns as he glances over at the clock. It is five minutes past nine. He arrived too the theatre early. The temptation to rehearse his singing part alone without the company of peeping eyes was too strong to ignore. Trevor shrugs off his fur cloak.</p><p>"Your voice is higher.</p><p>"Excuse me?" Alucard glares placing his hands on his hip.</p><p>"You're talking slightly higher or more strained than usual." Trevor gestures with his hand rubbing his throat. Though Alucard's voice fluctuated a lot, probably due to him mumbling through his own songs, today it is lighter and raspy.</p><p>Alucard hisses again before throwing himself upon his bed (coffin?) as lavish lavender silk falls around him. He lets out a long breath.</p><p>"Are you sick?"</p><p>"Of this tragedy? Yes."</p><p>"That bad?"</p><p>"That Bad."</p><p>"Aw," Trevor says, "poor lil thing."</p><p>"Do not mock me Hunter."</p><p>Trevor grunts before grabbing a stool and sliding it across the room to sit at the foot of Alucard's bed-thingy.</p><p>"Lighten up. Geez, Sypha was right, You're like a brooding teenager sometimes."</p><p>Alucard eyes only glare harder until Trevor's convinced, they're not even open anymore.</p><p>"Trouble in paradise?"</p><p>"What else would be the issue?" Alucard raises his voice, but it is still low.</p><p>Tired then, Trevor observes, though he can't be certain.</p><p>"The piano could be out of tune."</p><p>"Never," a hiss, "speak again of such atrocities."</p><p>Trevor holds his hands up in feign surrender.</p><p>"My apologies, your royal pompous. It's the backstories, ain't it?"</p><p>Alucard says nothing and turns so his back is against the wall. Trevor shakes his head playfully.</p><p>"What is wrong specifically?"</p><p>"I can't write tragic heroes without it sounding heroic. They're supposed to be"</p><p>"Tragic, " Trevor finishes, "like I didn't see this one coming."</p><p>The snarl that assaults Trevor's ears makes him smile even wider before asking,</p><p>"Which character?"</p><p>"The Sleeping Soldier."</p><p>Trevor shrugs, "What's the matter?"</p><p>Alucard lets out a long sigh before speaking.</p><p>"I can't seem to dour his backstory without explicitly making him look more of a humbled hero or falsified savior."</p><p>Trevor shakes his head, "And what were you expecting? He is technically the legend of legends."</p><p>"Were you not a hero not too long-ago Hunter?"</p><p>"Not per say," Trevor picks at the scruff on his chin, "occasionally, if someone was in trouble, I'd lend a hand."</p><p>"So," Alucard shifts in the bed, propping himself up on his elbows before directing his attention to Trevor, "You were a reluctant exemplar."</p><p>"In a sense." Trevor states without any hint of boastfulness.</p><p>"And then... you were sickened by mankind?"</p><p>"No!" Trevor states again with a bit more reluctance in his voice.</p><p>"Well, then what happened?"</p><p>"I became a drunk. There's no rational of behavior when you can barely stand up straight," he mumbles under his breath, adding, "or even fight straight that is."</p><p>"Your morals changed." It wasn't a question.</p><p>Trevor shrugs a response.</p><p>"How did that differ from before? I mean something led to the habit; I assume." Alucard prods.</p><p>"Yes, my fam-" Trevor pauses, closing his eyes. Lately, the memories come flooding back when he least expects them too. It is a sign of something far worse than simple nightmares. Sypha tried to diagnose him, but he refused. To put a name on it, meant it was real. Trevor rather ignore the pain, than truly feel being numb ensued he remained sober. Sober enough to be here. To be alive. To act. To talk to him. To be near her.</p><p>"Hunter?" The tone is not pity or condescending, but rather persistent. Alucard is not a patient man when he is invested in knowing the truth. Trevor was not an open man when it meant having a stranger- well whatever Alucard was to him- know something personal.</p><p>"I've been alone for a long time. I got used to it. To combat whatever loneliness I felt, I drank. I mean, they don't really sell to kids, but it helped I looked bigger than most and if I took up a job or did sell some of my game, booze was cheap. It came easy."</p><p>"Complacency will make even the bitter of circumstances a luxury."</p><p>"Yes, and it was nice for a while." Trevor allows himself to say.</p><p>"Yet, something changed it, no?"</p><p>Trevor falls silent, unable to truly answer. It wasn't like he couldn't, but he never really allowed himself to rethink things. It was always move forward not back. Alucard had now set himself up. His posture was completely straight probably due to his newfound agitation every time Trevor was slow to response. Trevor wasn't a tempered man- nothing like his father. He was easy-going, slow to the jump, but fast enough to catch on.</p><p>"Trevor, your silence is unbecoming."</p><p>That response gets him a laugh as Trevor blinks trying to think straight.</p><p>"I saved someone which led me to give up drinking and sober up. I don't think there's much to it."</p><p>"There is."</p><p>"What does this have to do with the 'sleeping soldier?'"</p><p>Alucard stiffens slightly before sighing, "There is a slight issue with the backgrounds. I simply want to understand you and why the Hunter would behave in such a manner even if he has casted the world away. His character is equally as crucial as that of the sleeping soldier."</p><p>"I understand, but it's turning into a biography, rather than a tragedy."</p><p>"Only to you. By time I'm done, there will be no incoherent parts that are specific, but a broader undertone that amplifies on your own conditioning. The characters must be based off someone and it just so happens, you, Hunter, relate to that of the legend.</p><p>Trevor doesn't know how to respond, but his mouth begins to move before he knows what he's saying.</p><p>"I was young. I don't remember how old anymore, but I was young enough to understand what death was, yet old enough to be afraid of it. I was both pathetic and yet competent- a rather wily mix and it didn't usually go well in my favor. I suppose when I met Sypha, I realized that there are some good people left, even if they were as naïve as her and the Elder." He shakes his head at that last part.</p><p>"She was the one you saved?"</p><p>"No, I saved her grandfather from being beaten by some of the corrupted figure heads before he led me here. At first, I didn't want to join, but then he spoke to me about why they had come and what it is that Speakers do. He was a performer of the sorts and they put on different productions to tell their oral histories. I was weary at first, but in the end, he explained his grandchild was out after the city curfew and I offered to find them. Turns out I found her singing near the local tavern. I was still kind drunk and in a stupor at that point."</p><p>Alucard shifted oddly closer to the edge of the bed (coffin?) almost leaning into the story itself.</p><p>"What else?"</p><p>"I don't know. Her voice really took me by surprised. I always hated how they dressed up the women in men's clothes, but she presented herself strong. It was then I kinda dragged her away to her grandfather back here at the theatre. She was less than grateful."</p><p>"She was not a damsel in distress?"</p><p>"Sypha," Trevor remarks almost shocked, before laughing, "No and she never will be. She is crazy and rather energetic. I like to think she would be a better hero in your tragedy than I."</p><p>Alucard nods solemnly, truly in thought.</p><p>"Your no poet Hunter, but you have a unique way of portraying thoughts. I can almost imagine being there myself." It was a soft statement as if almost cold.</p><p>"Well, if that's all for today, I should be getting back." Trevor goes to stand, but a long arm wraps around his pulling him back to earth.</p><p>"No, I have heard the thief tiptoeing at night. You mentioned a few missing articles. I have retrieved them. They were hidden in the attic above the theatre."</p><p>The sudden change in subject and seriousness of his tone almost distracts Trevor from the fact that Alucard his gripping his arm rather tightly as if he was to float away.</p><p>"I don't understand."</p><p>"I am telling you that, as a Hunter, you should be more aware of your surroundings. I can hear things. Things that might change the path you're on. Do not grow complacent yet."</p><p>The warning is so out of the ordinary and frank, it makes Trevor stutter on what to say.</p><p>"Alucard, I-"</p><p>"I believe I have done you a measurable favor in allowing my presence to be accompanied and looked into your lead once again."</p><p>Trevor nods, "Yes, but still that doesn't explain why especially since the first time to checked it out."</p><p>Alucard abruptly stands up and moves toward the piano, his back to Trevor.</p><p>"You doubt my innocence," Another statement, "I have done nothing. I am here to simply play a part as you are. We are not too far off different and if the roles were reversed, I can honestly say I'd lack the patience with a someone like myself."</p><p>"I suppose it's a good thing they aren't." Trevor mumbles.</p><p>"I do say though, it was never my intention to reveal myself until my time is done. The intimacy of this act can be mistaken for scandalous, no?"</p><p>Trevor blinks almost lost, not because Alucard is now rambling, but the way he phrased that statement.</p><p>"I don't think I understand."</p><p>Alucard turns to face him and even now, he points a long, ashen finger at the actor.</p><p>"I am simply reminding you that of the repercussions if I were to be exposed. I am not fond of losing such an arrangement."</p><p>Trevor wants to ask what he means, but the chimes of the city bells echoes even though he is some feet underground.</p><p>"I do believe that is our time."</p><p>Alucard places himself at the piano where he cracks his knuckles before resting his fingers in their dedicated areas.</p><p>The music cuts Trevor off before he can get in any refutation or explanation. Maybe, it is for the best, because whatever Alucard was trying to say, Trevor knows one thing.</p><p>Alucard is not the one he should be worried about.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Act Nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Whatever worries Trevor harbored didn't diminish as one of the stage coaches ended up missing the morning, he arrived that Tuesday. The Elder's usually bright and sharp face was worn with the ages of distress. It meant more Speakers were sent home. It meant more gossip that took root in the mouth of the city. It lingered in the air leaving the troupe with a sour taste of helplessness upon their tongues.<br/>The guardsmen investigated. There was nothing to be found.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am rushing to upload all these chapters I wrote and edited everything, so tell me what you think and lol thanks for sticking around to read.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whatever worries Trevor harbored didn't diminish as one of the stage coaches ended up missing the morning, he arrived that Tuesday. The Elder's usually bright and sharp face was worn with the ages of distress. It meant more Speakers were sent home. It meant more gossip that took root in the mouth of the city. It lingered in the air leaving the troupe with a sour taste of helplessness upon their tongues.<br/>
The guardsmen investigated. There was nothing to be found.<br/>
It is upon the fourth day of searching the theatre and then the woods, acrimony from the request of his father, Prince Adrien Tepes arrives in a fit of ribald indignation. Adrian, on his part, forestall and augment any investigations that did not involve his prowess. The presumptuous spite of the Elite's words alone was nothing short of irreverent; this outward display of arrogance didn't change how Trevor viewed the dhampir. If anything, it solidified what he already knew. It was no secret that after the war, Elites ruled the lands- the worst despots tended to keep their society's isolated from outside influences. Trevor never followed much on the politics surrounding Elites, but most were misanthropes. Such behaviors reflected upon the citizens who grew to be xenophobic; it was their fear of the unknown that kept them from seeing the bigger picture. It was safer to be live in blissful ignorance than know the truth.<br/>
Trevor watched as the actors scrambled out of Adrian's way as the charismatic Elite's grandiloquence turned rather venomous. His golden eyes only seemed to glow as his cool demeanor began to taper off.<br/>
However, it was the entertainment Trevor needed in hopes to distract himself from wandering off. Alucard was in an impressionable situation that could prove even more so if one of the guardsmen found him. Trevor rather avoid making a mistake that could cost an innocent man his life. Instead, he sought out Sypha, knowing more than likely she has seen Alucard to provide him his rations, only to find her laughter echoing through the corridors.<br/>
Adrien sits across from her at a table in one of the larger rooms set up for last minute meetings and such.<br/>
"Belmont!" Her ebullient greeting is matched with an even bigger smile as she tugs his arm to join them. Anyone else would have simply indulged in Trevor's dour presence mistaking it for apathy and using that as a form to escape their own discomfort, however, we force Trevor into the murky waters that surround Adrian Tepes. Their exchange of greetings is curt at best. Sypha seems unaware (or unaffected) by the Adrian's moods. She pulls Trevor into the wooden chair besides her and looks thoughtfully up at the Elite.<br/>
"It will be dinner soon," she explains to Adrian as if picking up from where their conversation got cut off, "more likely to be heard around here than outside." She gestures to the spacious walls that create an echo.<br/>
"Hm, dually noted." Adrian agrees.<br/>
"Wait, what do ya mean?" Trevor asks.<br/>
"Belmont, as an actor, you've spent countless hours amongst your pupils, no?"<br/>
"Yes, sir."<br/>
"Rather often, if not every day."<br/>
"It can vary based on availability and between performances," Trevor thinks for a second before adding, "to be honest, it is basically all the time."<br/>
Adrian brings a long, gloved index finger to his chin, tapping the smooth alabaster skin lightly in thought.<br/>
"Well then, I am convinced Sypha was right and we shall be working together again. I request your presence in..." he stands up abruptly before smiling, "Thirty minutes."<br/>
Before Trevor can object, Sypha adds, "Don't worry. My Elder will understand, and this is for the investigation, so he'll understand why you were requested." Her hands grasp his large bicep as she smiles up at him. Trevor's face begins to heat up as he looks up to find Alucard watching them intently. Trevor wants to deny his request, but he also can't let Sypha- no, he can't let the theatre down.<br/>
"Fine, but don't cut my parts." He adds.<br/>
"Oh, don't worry, I doubt anyone could ever take your place." she lets go of his arm and Trevor can't help but wish she hadn't. Her attention falls to Alucard.<br/>
"And do enjoy dinner." Alucard rolls his eyes, though his smile never waivers. They are like best friends responding to each other with ease and comfort. Trevor has a hunch the same applies with Alucard.<br/>
The thought of dinner with Adrien sends a shiver of uneasiness through him. Trevor can't think of a plausible excuse to stay longer as Sypha slips in her goodbyes leaving the two gents standing in the corridor. Adrien doesn't acknowledge Trevor as he leads them outside. Looking over his shoulder by chance, Trevor can just make out the outline of a black cloak before a cold air spits into his face.</p><p>The carriage that awaits them isn't grand in any grandeur except that the horses are larger than he thought possible. With a swift gesture, Trevor climbs in first followed by Adrien. Once their settled, the coachman whips the reigns and the carriage sways lightly under the added weight. Adrian sits on the left side of the carriage (closest to the door)- his perspective side of the carriage. It is rather nice inside, though Trevor would never admit it. Wherever their headed, Adrian is of no rush to disclose their location.<br/>
The carriage stops just outside of the human district. It is rare to have restaurants service to both Elites and high ranked nobles, but there are a few that do.<br/>
"Have you ever heard of Sanguis?" Adrian prompts as the horses' trot slow down. The door opens inviting the cold air into the heated small space. The Elite moves without motion- he stands up to his full height outside. His overcoat falls lightly over his knees concealing long, slender legs. Black tailored fabric woven with gold clasps hides the freshly ironed three-piece suit composed by white leather hands that gesture for Trevor to step out. The lack of color should make him too pale, but there's a healthy glow around the Elite basking him in elegance. The slight glow of his eyes and lack thereof in his skin created an elusive pallidness that is divulge of something ancient and opal like rather than ailment.<br/>
"Well, then Belmont?" Adrian exhorts clearly losing patience. He is more stern and rigid upon this meeting than other. It is truly the first time Trevor has seen the prince act so short.<br/>
"Yes, vaguely." Trevor rushes to reply trying to remember the question. His words seem to get swept away with the winter air as white smoke escapes his mouth.<br/>
This answer seems to do as Adrien begins to direct them through a maze of buildings connected. These buildings are further away from the street allowing few to spot them at night especially under a moonless night or a foggy one. Trevor doesn't need to take in his surroundings to know that the restaurant probably resides near the epicenter of the rather quaint looking homes that house a few lower- ranking Elites.<br/>
"Did you have another place in mind?" Trevor finds himself asking.<br/>
"No." Another curt answer followed by silence gives Trevor plenty of time to being led aimlessly through the darkness.<br/>
"I don't eat out often." Golden eyes turn their attention onto him with as much focus and vigor as that of a cat eyeing a mouse.<br/>
Trevor smiles weakly, "Ah, gotcha. Well, I'm if you picked this place, it's gotta be pretty exclusive considering you seem like the type to be rather... particular about what you'd eat."<br/>
Those eyes close for a second leaving him completely alone as he steps again. Trevor has been counting how many steps away he was from the street and it wasn't that many. He could always run... if he had too.<br/>
"Mr. Belnades hired you as security originally."<br/>
"Yea."<br/>
"Sypha says you have a keen eye for details and creativity."<br/>
"The show must go on, Prince."<br/>
"Adrian," he corrects, "and I understand. One bad cold or a slip of lines are more often likely yet can go ignored if done correctly."<br/>
"Is there a point to this?" Trevor asks with as much poise as he can muster.<br/>
"You enjoy the challenge. You crave the attention but fear true connection. And it seems rather humdrum for someone of your caliber." Adrian opens his eyes. Even with half his face hidden behind his pulled-up collar, his eyes could make the sun envious. The paragon of the golden child act is on full display as he flashes a smile avoiding showing teeth.<br/>
His voice is as heavy as the rain and yet as soft as a morning dew.<br/>
"I may be able to assist you."<br/>
Trevor's feet drag the ground tripping him up enough to stumble into the prince. Strong hands gently push his back to regain balance. Trevor is waiting for a snarky remark but is met with silence. Instead, Adrian continues to guide them through the alley.<br/>
"So, I am still helping you with the search, right?"<br/>
"Why ever would you not," Adrian says, "You alone are familiar and have access to almost everyone who enters and exits the theatre. As an actor, people are inclined to divulge in you. They are more careless, yet you are respected so in some ways they find comfort in knowing they have someone to rely on."<br/>
"Basically, Sypha turned you down the first time you offered."<br/>
Adrian snorts. His head shakes lightly as blond strands like sunlight fall upon his face as he turns to face Trevor once again.<br/>
"You will do just fine Belmont."<br/>
"The crimes have to stop. I can't say I'll spy on my troupe, but if I have any good issues to relay, I shall."<br/>
Adrian turns away seemingly satisfied by this answer. He adds that they shall discuss further matters over dinner.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Act Ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Whether it is the hour or the weather keeping the human patrons away, Trevor is peripherally aware of being watched. It is a feeling he's almost used to though the stress of having a whole restaurant eye his every move was nerve-wracking. For the most part, he was able to steady his breathing even if his heart rate spiked it wasn't enough for any of them to notice. The vast majority of glowing pupils and polished conditioning made Trevor stand out like a sore thumb. Of course, there was another matter at hand.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I didn't like how the chapters were set up and decided to break some up. I know it may throw you off a bit and I apologize in advance to anyone who gets confused, but I wanted to provide the best quality and quantity I could.<br/>Hope you still enjoy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Whether it is the hour or the weather keeping the human patrons away, Trevor is peripherally aware of being watched. It is a feeling he's almost used to though the stress of having a whole restaurant eye his every move was nerve-wracking. For the most part, he was able to steady his breathing even if his heart rate spiked it wasn't enough for any of them to notice. The vast majority of glowing pupils and polished conditioning made Trevor stand out like a sore thumb. Of course, there was another matter at hand. Pristine glass cups sparkled in the low lighting that was as much romantic as it was eerie; each cup was complimented with a thick red liquid that could resemble a fine red wine. To state the obvious, not a single patron had a meal in front of them. As Alucard leisurely scans the menu, Trevor struggles to point out that there aren't many options for someone like him to eat. On the other hand, Trevor begrudgingly stares at his menu trying to avoid drawing attention to the table. <br/>The restaurant itself is spacious. From the outside, it looks no more impressive than that of a regular tavern, but inside is simply quaint. Everything about the place screams vampire and it's hard to focus on anything other than the beautiful patrons that sit so still as if they were pieces of art. Trevor wasn't as impressionable with his words as Alucard, but he surveyed he room casually. <br/>"Sculptures." He muttered to himself. <br/>Alucard catches his gaze lifting an eyebrow in response. Trevor looks back down at the menu pretending not to notice even if his face is burning. They were like sculptures lost in time reflecting both the divine age and grace of a preserved body- long forgotten history and culture trapped in the present. It was a unique beauty that both captivated the eyes yet warned the body of the dangers that lurked beneath porcelain skin and sapphire eyes: eyes of which Adrian seemed to not share. <br/>Citrine came to mind when looking at his eyes. It was a strange thought to compare such lost wonders to a quartz. He supposed both reflected a beauty that was far less to fit in, but stood out, not necessarily due to beauty. It was something far more mesmeric. A gemstone not often regarded due to its wide variety and coloring- a sickeningly strange color that seemed to house the rays of the sun itself. <br/>'An aid to release the strains of burden.' <br/>Maybe that is what Adrian was to the theatre. It felt wrong to materialize a man who was essentially in the same situation as they were. It was even harder to sympathize knowing who he really was. Trevor could imagine his ancestors rolling around in their graves if they knew he was fraternizing with a sworn enemy. Yet, he wasn't that man anymore. Elites were no worse than people except they had a meaner bite. The world had changed; it had been forced to recognize and accept these individuals, so why couldn't he? <br/>It was then a waiter comes to the table before Trevor can decide on something. Alucard orders their finest wine. Attention turns to Trevor as he previously tries and fails to think of something to order. <br/>"He'll take a black coffee and the chef's special." <br/>The incongruous response gets a nod out of both the waiter and Trevor. Handing back the menu, he barely registers that the waiter is human. Her soft smile is directed at him through strained eyes as she avoids looking directly at Adrian before leaving them alone. <br/>"Well then, dazzle me with the dramatics of the theatre." Adrian leans back casually in his chair. His back is still straight, and his eyes are attentive, if not, a bit far away. Refined and graceful as he crosses his legs, Trevor mimics his movements trying to relax. <br/>"Uh, with the thefts?" <br/>A nod. <br/>"Right now, the money is on the phantom, but there are rumors it may be one of the stagehands." Trevor purposely avoids bringing hector's name up. It would be an easy scapegoat to blame the poor boy considering his relationship with the diplomat. Adrian, however, must sense this hesitation and takes the opportunity to pry out what he can from Trevor. For the most part, the actor remains as cool and alert as he always is, if not a bit swayed by how natural it felt to talk so openly with an Elite. It was phenomenal as if he shouldn't even exist in the same world as the prince before him. Nevertheless, when the food arrives, the conversation is mid-debate on the theory of how the defamatory acts could be done out of fears of what the Speakers represent. <br/>As if the presence of his wine comes to mind, Adrian takes a long sip. His eyes never leaving Trevor who wordlessly begins to prod at the chef's special. It is a warm bowl of chili served with fresh bread. It is both sweet and savory warming the chill that amassed in his bones from walking. <br/>Adrian sits the glass down delicately only having drank about half of what was given. He begins to speak thoughtfully what the situation is surrounding such crimes. <br/>"My father is simply losing patience. Such a virtue that was short to begin with. It has nothing to do with the Elder, but rather the theatre itself. His wife was persistent in it being open to all patrons and allowing everyone to experience such art. Considering what has happened, it has put a strain on his relations with not only the people of Wallachia, but others as well." His voice drops considerably until Trevor finds himself leaning in to hear. <br/>The actor pokes at his beans trying to find more corn. There is none, so he picks at his bread until that is gone. Adrian never reaches for his glass again. His interest turns to Trevor's plate rather than the conversation. <br/>"It is upon my second evening of your show that I was introduced to a troubling spectacle that my father is to be assassinated." The statement is so abrupt that Trevor nearly spills his coffee on himself. He holds the cup to his lips blinking rapidly. <br/>"Excuse me?" <br/>"You heard me correctly. I rather hate to repeat myself." <br/>A longer sip is taken, but Trevor never sees him gulp once. <br/>"What does that have to do with the theatre?" <br/>"Exactly. It doesn't, though he is fairly attached to it. After all, his wife's death closely resembled that of the diplomat." <br/>He spoke of them as if they were strangers or distant. Trevor frowned. <br/>"I apologize if that was rather... forward. It just seems there is more at play than causing a bit of strife. A message is being sent to my father who willfully ignores it. New faces turn up in our territory threatening everything we have built. I am afraid my father simply hasn't recovered since her death." <br/>"Sorry if I sound out of place. A broken heart?" <br/>"The heart is a treacherous thing Belmont. Do not disregard the lengths a person will go for love." <br/>The atmosphere darkens and the pair fall silent staring at the remaining parts of their meal. Trevor isn't certain what is happening. It seems that someone wishes to challenge the Counts' authority. That would warrant a death sentence itself but replicating the death of his wife? That seemed much more personal. Harassing the theatre? That would only hurt the Count if it seemed he couldn't protect his assets. So, why now? It had been a year since the dilettante died. Sypha had spoken about the woman on a few occasions. <br/>"What was she like?" A personal question that didn't really fit their lack thereof a relationship. <br/>Adrian stiffens. The silence alone is almost suffocation. Trevor can't seem to focus on anything around them except those golden eyes growing wide. <br/>"She was," he says slowly, "a woman beyond her time." <br/>He doesn't say anything else and Trevor can only nod. At that moment, the waiter arrives to clear their table. She asks if they want refills. Both decline the offer. The waiter eyes Trevor a bit longer than she should before walking off. <br/>"So, why haven't the officials done anything? I'm sure the Count has his own personal army. Shouldn't they be investigating?" <br/>"It is upon his request they do not get involved. He believes someone in his close party is the traitor. If this is the case, I have been advised to seek help elsewhere. Since the theatre has a grand reputation of attracting unwanted attention, I am left with few options. The townspeople are weary of us and the theatre doesn't have personal security. The Elder doesn't believe in such things." <br/>"And because the investigation is going slow, the thefts have been picking up to show how disorganized and vulnerable the Count seems to be?" <br/>"The stagecoach belonged to one of the visiting patriarchs from Japan. An empress who did not take lightly to finding out a common thief stole her property." <br/>Trevor can't imagine that going over very well with any of the Elites. They seemed rather attached to their material things. <br/>"What do you think will happen next?" <br/>"My father's death is the finale. I cannot imagine that his death will be the only one." <br/>"You!" Trevor speaks rather loudly gaining him a few dirty looks. <br/>"Watch yourself," Adrian warns, "And I can't confirm that. I do know it is of those who are considerably close to our family." <br/>"How am I to help exactly?" <br/>Adrian cracks a smile. It is one that reads 'You hopeless idiot'. <br/>"An actor is many things. You will simply be what you are, though you now know what to look for." <br/>Trevor nearly rolls out of his seat. He completely misses the meaning of that statement. Before he can even ask what Adrian speculates, the Elite is standing up throwing a few gold coins onto the table. He dons on his black coat, his leather gloves seemed to magically appear on his hands, and flashes Trevor a rather wolfish grin before departing without another word.</p><p>It is upon that very evening of returning to the theatre, he finds himself alone despite a few wanderers. Trevor nearly bounds the stairs in on leap before Sypha can warn him away from the catacombs. <br/>Trevor barely makes it to the door before finding it already open. Alucard seems to be in a state of hyperactive frenzy pulling at the sleeves of his cloak. When he spots Trevor, the pianist nearly jumps out of his clothing taken back by the presence of another person. <br/>"A little warning would be nice, Hunter!" Alucard snarls. <br/>"I saw you. You should have seen me right in front of you." Trevor strolls in. Alucard spins the actor around instantly so they face each other. Hands resting on Trevor's shoulders, he lightly shakes the actor appearing to recover from his initial shock. <br/>"I require a break." Alucard begins to urge them out of the room. It is strange to led by someone else for a change (besides Sypha and now, Adrian). Trevor decides he usually follows them around. <br/>"Blow the candles out first." Trevor slips from his grasp before entering the room again. He makes sure to leave one burning bringing it up to his face. The warm lighting reminds him of the chili and a content feeling resonates within him. With everything going on, it was nice to take a moment to not think about the impending doom of others. <br/>Trevor debated telling Alucard of his grief when he found the man waiting patiently outside. Alucard takes the candle from him. <br/>"Where exactly are we going?" Trevor questions. It was rather suspicious for two grown men- a cloaked man and an actor- to be snooping around under the theatre. <br/>"I haven't quite explored the makings of the tunnels yet." Alucard hums lightly. <br/>Trevor begins to protest. Alucard won't hear of it. <br/>"Hunter, this is good for the creative process." <br/>"They're tunnels." <br/>"Not just any tunnels though." <br/>Trevor sulks, slumping his shoulder making no effort to hide his annoyance. Alucard ignores this leading them through an area where steam is prevalent, and the creak of metal grinding together is almost insufferable. Following only the faint glow of the candle, Alucard disappears into the tunnels. Without noticing, a thin arm links around his burly one and he feels a lot like a child being led by a parent. <br/>Trevor tries to pull away. It is futile since Alucard's strength is death tight. <br/>With a sigh, Trevor speaks up, <br/>"Quite a lovely tour of your second home. The smell of rat piss and whatever else is underwhelming." <br/>His voice is rich with sarcasm, but Alucard responds with full sincerity. <br/>"Yes, it is nice. I do love a good walk." <br/>"I think I stepped in something." <br/>"Hm, do mind your step. I believe there is a butcher shop a few streets down." <br/>A huff of breath escapes his mouth- it is neither a sigh or a laugh. <br/>Their walk is short lived when the tunnels narrow. Trevor's shoulders barely avoid touching the walls and Alucard's tall frame is devoid of an actual shape. It is rather disturbing how unrevealing that cloak is. <br/>"What is this place?" Trevor's voice echoes harshly. It is not a sound he enjoys. <br/>"Hm, some say a remnant of the Count's castle. No one has ever actually been or seen it, but the catacombs hold many mysteries." Alucard replies. <br/>"How is that possible?" <br/>"It is not and yet it is." <br/>"Where are we exactly?" <br/>"I believe somewhere in the center of the city. Possibly further away." <br/>The duo turns to leave when Alucard pauses in his steps. Trevor runs right into him. The impact of his still body and bony surface leave Trevor grasping his nose in pain before Alucard turns to apologize. He thought he saw something or perceived to see a rat. <br/>That is enough for Trevor to take the lead gripping Alucard's forearm. He takes the candle and holds it carefully before pulling them towards the room. <br/>"What a waste of time." Trevor falls onto the only real seat stationed behind the piano. Alucard falls into place as his fingers' find their preferred keys. <br/>"It was a good change of pace." <br/>"I hope that wasn't intentional." <br/>A laugh meets that response before Alucard begins to explain Act One and plays it to Trevor. The tragedy comes to life and before he knows it, the clock strikes midnight. <br/>"The perspective has shifted to Dracula's court." Alucard explains over the chimes. <br/>Trevor hums thoughtfully. He stands up gathering his belongings. At the door, he picks up the newspaper. <br/>"Maybe next time I'll explain Act Two over dinner." <br/>Trevor looks up asking him to repeat what he said. Alucard shrugs him off pushing him out the door to join the real world once again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Act Eleven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A broken toe or a strained voice came with the area of being a performer, however, the chance of a broken foot and a dislocated shoulder were another matter.</p><p>It began with the harpist who felt a presence behind him as he was taking his leave from the theatre. It was still rather late, and he had stayed behind to run through his part. Upon his departure, a gush of cold air hit the back of his neck and in the blink of an eye, he found himself falling into the street where an unsuspecting buggy happened to pass by clipping his foot.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Half way through and I am invested in the next few chapters. Finding the creativity to bridge all the events together was hard and there will be some loopholes that you'll notice. Don't worry though, I have a plan to cover mystery instore.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A broken toe or a strained voice came with the area of being a performer, however, the chance of a broken foot and a dislocated shoulder were another matter.</p><p>It began with the harpist who felt a presence behind him as he was taking his leave from the theatre. It was still rather late, and he had stayed behind to run through his part. Upon his departure, a gush of cold air hit the back of his neck and in the blink of an eye, he found himself falling into the street where an unsuspecting buggy happened to pass by clipping his foot.</p><p>The case only grew more bizarre as he could not remember leaving the theatre entrance quite yet and why he had felt cold so suddenly. Trevor had been present at the accident carrying the man to the nearest clinic. It raised no suspicion that an actor was staying at the theatre since most of them did live in their rooms from time to time. On their way to the clinic, it seemed that Trevor's shoulder, from the sudden strain and overuse, dislocated. He honestly laughed at the numbing pain when the troupe doctor told him the next morning finding it rather scary the actor neglected to feel or even look at his shoulder. Trevor said it was the adrenaline. The troupe doctor said disgruntledly agreed.</p><p>Sypha remained dutifully at his side during and after rehearsals. Her chelids demeanor and stern face contradicted itself so that he honestly didn't know if she was happy or mad at him. They hadn't exactly exchanged words since he had gone to dinner with Adrian.</p><p>Did she have the wrong idea?</p><p>The thought occurred to him when Trevor went to grab his script and she was already in the process of handing it to him. Their fingers brushed together before she snatched her hand back as if shocked (or disgusted). Something in his chest shifted. She never reacted that way before. Trevor reveled in these thoughts as Mrs. Djuvara assures Trevor.</p><p>"You will grow wrinkles thinking so hard." She teases.</p><p>Trevor sighs, "I suppose I have a lot on my mind."</p><p>"As does everyone, my dear boy."</p><p>Her words grew soft as she stitched at a dress. Trevor, for all his air headedness, noticed her lack of commentary.</p><p>"Is something bothering you?"</p><p>"I can't help but shake the feeling that this has something to do with Lisa."</p><p>"Lisa?"</p><p>"The Count's wife. She was a saint. A golden ray of sunlight in our drab town. She was a woman beyond her time."</p><p>It was the second time he heard of the reference to the former dilettante. It seemed strange to ask, but Trevor did so anyway.</p><p>"Did you know her well?"</p><p>"She was my doctor. Her son was following in her footsteps it seemed. He was a fine hand for stitching. A beautiful boy. She displayed him in the common area of the theatre away from his father's portrait. I suppose they differed in a way- contrasting orbital creatures: she referred to them as individuals of their own entity."</p><p>Trevor was now formally acquainted with both men. Each deemed to have their own personality- their own aesthetic belonged to another time. Adrian Tepes was a golden drop of paint upon a grey canvas. His father was a drop of crimson staining even the darkest of nights. It was strange to look at both Elites side by side thinking of the shadow casted upon his father's rule.</p><p>"They don't always see eye to eye," Mrs. Djuvara spoke up, "Both Elites seem to be handling her death in different ways. They don't live together anymore nor does Adrian speak to his father unless it is urgent. Such a sad thing it is." She tsks.</p><p>Trevor nods rolling his right shoulder as it begins to ache. The older seamstress fills him in on how everyone is assigned a partner until further notice. It is a way to keep each other safe.</p><p>"Sypha is your buddy so stay close." Her wink doesn't go unnoticed as Trevor shakes his head bemused. He feels lighter now knowing more about Adrian's past a bit, yet there are so many gaps left unfilled. It is strange to think such a creature exists with such human emotions. To Trevor they weren't on the same level. His father always spoke so openly about the Elites. He cursed them; the hate in his eyes seeped into everything he did. It was a rooted trait of the Belmonts to hunt these bloody creature's and kill them.</p><p>Trevor left the costume room questioning his own heritage and beliefs. He never doubted who he was. He knew for a fact who and what he was. It was a matter of what could he do with this. What would Trevor do?</p><p>Too many things have gone unsolved. The first is the murder surrounding Lenore. Trevor is nothing more than a chasseur pretending to be an actor turned private investigator for an Elite who could easily decide at any moment to snap his neck. The thought surprises him because he can't see Adrian acting out of predisposed anger. With that said, Trevor sits on the edge of the stage looking out at it all.</p><p>He expects to see the woman sitting in box seven when he glances up there. Instead he is met with nothing but emptiness. There is so much going on that it is hard to comprehend what will happen next. Trevor falls unto his back staring up at the high vaulted ceilings closing his eyes.</p><p>It must be some time that has passed because when he opens his eyes Sypha sits beside him. Her legs are swung over the edge of the stage and her arms are extended behind her for support. Beside her lies a rich crème letter that has been opened.</p><p>"We will be leaving soon." She states as if it is the most natural thing in the world.</p><p>Trevor groans as he begins to rise-up, but a small hand pushes him with ease back onto the cold stage. He lies there not even trying to fight anymore. For so long, he had been fighting and at this point, he had accepted the course of nature. Things happened to happen. There was no changing that. To believe in false pretenses was to live a life of hopeful despair.</p><p>"We will be heading to one of the waterfront cities," she continues, "My Elder thinks we have overstayed our welcome."</p><p>There is no pain or anger in her voice. The lack of emotion is unsettling. Trevor turns his head to watch her as she stares out into nothing. Her lips are pursed. Her eyes are wide, and her face looks too young.</p><p>'A woman beyond her time.'</p><p>It is the first thought that comes to his head. The next is a question he speaks out loud before realizing it.</p><p>"What about Alucard?"</p><p>"What about him?" Her voice is strained.</p><p>Her attention falls unto him for the first time. Her orange-red hairy falls upon the curves of her cheek bones accented her face nicely. Her blue eyes are as vast as the sky- they seem to be never ending in emotion.</p><p>"You will miss him." A statement.</p><p>"We cannot stay any longer."</p><p>"You believe in the legend though." It isn't a question.</p><p>Sypha sighs before turning away. She clasps her hands together before speaking slower.</p><p>"I do. I have faith in many things. I want to stay. I want to help. There is something bigger than us happening Belmont. Alucard could be the key to why everything is the way it is. Have you ever wondered why it was us who found him that day?"</p><p>Trevor doesn't reply. He had the same thought. It had been a complete accident, if not vicissitude. Prior to a few months ago, Trevor had been rather distant from the rest of the troupe. He wasn't an actor yet. His job required him to simply stand guard. It was simple and good pay. Drinking was still a habit. The Elder spoke reasonably stating he couldn't come to work drunk. Trevor obliged neither being angry nor distressed by this rule. Slowly, he stopped going to the pub when he noticed the frown Sypha would cast him when she walked by. He didn't know it then, but he was rather intolerable towards her. Nothing was personal, but he was just indifferent to everyone at the time. She, however, seemed persistent in making him see the good things of this world.</p><p>"You went after me." She said.</p><p>"Someone had too."</p><p>"But it didn't have to be you."</p><p>Trevor never forgot the stubborn glint in her eye as he tried to drag her out of the catacombs. She still went down there even after he told her not too. It was a nuisance to keep trying to find her. Upon one evening of Trevor grew increasingly frustrated. In a drunken stupor, he began singing of a love to be lost and never found. It was an old song his mother use to play when he snuck off to read in the family study. His sister would sit beside the older woman swaying to the music. It was the only peace they knew before their father arrived home after a late-night hunt.</p><p>Trevor fell right off the stage. His shoulder dislocated and he laid there coughing up his own dinner. It was by chance he was found. Sypha made a huge fuss over it. The pain in her eyes were unmatched as long arms wrapped around him and picked the drunkard up. Trevor never registered that it was Alucard who carried him. The actor smirked trying to not feel some type of way. Strange how events played out, but he couldn't imagine his life any different.</p><p>"We stay then."</p><p>It is now Sypha's turn to stare at him. Trevor stares back trying not to show his displeasure as his shoulder begins to act up.</p><p>"You said it yourself, there is something going on- bigger than we imagined. I don't think we can protect Alucard and help Adrian solve this murder in another city."</p><p>She smiles never breaking eye contact. Her hand, small and cold, falls upon his cheek stroking it softly with as much care as a mother. This time, Trevor leans into the touch, closing his eyes once again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Act Twelve</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"... it cannot be concluded that the woman shows what shall happen, thus her reaction is valid. I, myself, have never been in that situation. It was extremely difficult to orchestrate both sides of the story one the piano. The keys began to shift during the fight scenes to majors. I believe d major will suit this scene well. It difficult to determine the specific locations- Hunter!"</p><p>Trevor rubs his face finding Alucard snapping his fingers for attention.</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"Hm?" Alucard repeats with snide mockery, "Hunter, your attention span is of a fish."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Uh.... this chapter has some quotes from the show. Nothing too major that wouldn't allow you not to follow if you're not familiar with Castlevania. It just adds some flavors for, us, fans and I think I executed the lines well considering I have never written a fanfic before.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"... it cannot be concluded that the woman shows what shall happen, thus her reaction is valid. I, myself, have never been in that situation. It was extremely difficult to orchestrate both sides of the story one the piano. The keys began to shift during the fight scenes to majors. I believe d major will suit this scene well. It difficult to determine the specific locations- Hunter!"</p><p>Trevor rubs his face finding Alucard snapping his fingers for attention.</p><p>"Hm?"</p><p>"Hm?" Alucard repeats with snide mockery, "Hunter, your attention span is of a fish."</p><p>Trevor loses all energy to reply with the same amount of attitude. A simple sorry escape through his lips as he sits up and gives Alucard his full attention. Obviously, this isn't enough as the pianist continues to press.</p><p>"What has enamured your attention all of a sudden?"</p><p>"Many things, but the troupe is moving on in a month."</p><p>Alucard cocks his robed head to the side as if taking in this information for the first time. Trevor can't imagine living down here he gets much news. Still, Sypha would have told him. Wouldn't she?</p><p>"You didn't know?" The question is answered with an exasperated sigh.</p><p>"I inferred it. Sypha wasn't very open on talking about anything but the mundane."</p><p>"Does it bother you?" Do you care was what Trevor wanted to ask, though he didn't really know why. Alucard just seem to exist. It was like gravity or the sun. It was there and he lived with it without the speculation behind these phenomena. Alucard was now a part of him as much as Sypha was if not more.</p><p>"Why do you ask?" The 'since we're talking about you and not me' literally hangs in the air that Trevor laughs. Alucard remains quiet waiting patiently for a reply.</p><p>"I don't know, the actor shrugs honestly, "it feels weird I guess."</p><p>"You guess?"</p><p>"You spoke vaguely of how the chasseur and the sleeping soldier found common ground for their hate of Dracula. It is their duty of service that bounds them to work together even if they are sworn enemies. I believe I am in a situation similar. A battle that silently takes place under my nose that I am ill aware of."</p><p>"Or the one you've been avoiding. A hunter is of no use if the people have deemed him no more worthy than the creatures, he's slain," The last part is almost spit out as Alucard continues, "It is of lack of regard or more than that when the man is but a man fights for those who will never see him as anything but. He is just and in ways more than not, noble. There is a keen perspective that the chauseeur suffers in order that others don't have to fight the monsters of the night: he alone takes on the army inspire of the odds. It is in his blood: the tragedy of legacy."</p><p>"And the sleeping soldier?" Trevor leans forward. He has never heard Alucard speak so fluently and versed about his work in a way that feels so singular.</p><p>"Born in the realms and shadows of a great man turned torrid. A treacherous heart can lead anyone to do a many bad things."</p><p>"Adrian said the same thing." Trevor interjects which grants him a hiss.</p><p>"Do not compare my words to that of a commoner."</p><p>"He isn't- he is an Elite. A dhampir. Good company and the prince. A bit stuffy and insufferable, but you'd like him."</p><p>"I doubt that. May I continue?"</p><p>Trevor nods and Alucard begins to explain the tragedy once again.</p><p>"A dying man is but that. There is nothing to save when the heart has lost its will. It is of the influence of a woman who has saved a wandering soul. Though he is a vampire and a high ranking one, he was a man once. A man of science and dependability. Emotions are anything but. Just in case, he wants to avenge her death. He turns to the townspeople who watched an innocent woman be put to death and gives them one year to redeem for their crimes. Instead, the people rejoice in having beat the unbeatable fate that was to be upon them. A year later, the hounds of the night are set loose and the cities begin to fall into utter chaos."</p><p>"And the sleeping soldier?"</p><p>"He is the son of Dracula."</p><p>"I see, but let me ask you this, where does this story originate from?"</p><p>"It is unknown. I was only aware of it one day when I was badly injured and took refuge in an old acquaintances'' home. She kindly spoke to me about what the people told her. It is a story that seems to have appeared as studently as the wind itself. I referred to visit the site where it was rumored this prince of light slept as he awaited the day, he would awaken to rescue the people in their darkest hour. I found this place and dwelled here for a few months taking note of all the information. It was quite interesting. The 'sleeping soldier' remains rather illusive and unknown. I struggle to write a character that I know nothing about."</p><p>"Hm, well you wrote about the scholar. Sypha isn't exactly one to sit and talk." Know that he thinks about it, she fights. Sypha was smart and would take the time to read or research; she also loved to get her hands dirty too.</p><p>"The scholar was simple. It is not that the background surrounding the scholar is straight-forward. It is introducing the scholar to a new perspective of the world. Easily adaptable, yet still new to the workings outside of the protection of their people, I found the scholar refreshing."</p><p>It made sense. Both Alucard and Sypha had an immense love for the arts and apparently history. The raconteur speaker had a way with words like no other. Trevor savored every performance listening to her voice project its prowess. Alucard, however, was just the same: it was a bit different in circumstance. Still, he could imagine their discussions.</p><p>"Why do you call upon us separately?"</p><p>"Rather inquisitive tonight, aren't we," Before he adds, "for someone who wasn't paying attention to me earlier."</p><p>Trevor rolls his eyes ignoring the response.</p><p>"Why is that?"</p><p>"It diminishes distractions. I can focus on each part of separately before adding to the whole entity. It would draw suspicion if both of you disappeared at the same time, don't you think?"</p><p>Trevor can't argue with the logic. Instead, Alucard rises from his seat like a glob of black mass (it is quite surreal the energy of this man) and gestures to Trevor to rise.</p><p>"Did you hear that?"</p><p>It takes Trevor a moment to register a strange shuffling sound. It isn't something one would notice right away. Before Alucard can stop him, Trevor has his sword in hand- it is a stage prop, but still as effective as a real one- opens the door before venturing out. He snatches up his candle and leaves with haste. It isn't until he's walking down the stairs that Trevor begins to ramble to himself unfamiliar with this part of the catacombs. The superficial lighting only stretches so far. His steps are careful.</p><p>"I can hear you." He states flatly. There is no reference to who he speaks towards.</p><p>"I'm armed and a lot less happy than you are," he grumbles under his breath, "so you might as well stay out of my way."</p><p>Upon taking the final step forward, the floor folds as Trevor falls through. It is so quick he has no time to react. The candle falls from his grasp. He is hyperaware of what could await him once he hits the ground. With the blink of an eye, something snatches his wrist. The grip is firm, and the grunt followed by it suggests a slight struggle at best.</p><p>"You really ought to stop with the heavy clothing."</p><p>Alucard.</p><p>His voice alone makes Trevor look up to see that cloaked figure and smile. The pianist has braced himself upon the last step. Carefully, he pulls Trevor up until they stand side by side. The actor coughs having inhaled mold spores and dust which might never leave his lungs. Alucard remains presumptuous as ever waiting for the man to recover before stating the obvious.</p><p>"Where were you going exactly?"</p><p>Good question.</p><p>Trevor rubbed the back of his head boyishly smiling.</p><p>"I was following my instincts. I would have landed on my feet." He mentions his cat-like reflexes. Alucard spins on his heals, the cloak flaring and begins to ascend the stairs. Trevor looks up at him then back at the hole.</p><p>"What is down there?"</p><p>"Nothing of interest."</p><p>"But the sound?"</p><p>"There are far scarier things up here than deeper in the catacombs."</p><p>The sheer coldness of his statement is unrivaled by how pale eyes glow back at Trevor. It is unlike anything he has ever witness before.</p><p>"Who are you really?"</p><p>His question is met with a laugh.</p><p>"Something questions are better left unanswered, wouldn't you agree?"</p><p>Trevor is about to argue back as Alucard turns to keep walking. The actor follows suits tempted to yank to cloak off. He should.</p><p>Without thinking Trevor reaches out to touch the man that seems so far. The moment his hand grazes the rich fabric, he is flung against the cement floor and held down. Alucard has handful of his hair yanking his head back enough to expose his jugular vein which is throbbing from the adrenaline. The yellow of his eyes remind the actor of a wolf who has subdued its prey/ Alucard's hot breath stains his cheek as he hisses in anger.</p><p>"Do you have a god to put a last prayer to, Belmont?" The baritone voice is calm. It is downright scary how unbothered he sounds.</p><p>Trevor strains to get a clear look at him. He grunts out a response.</p><p>"Yeah, please don't let the vampire's guts ruin my good tunic."</p><p>"What?" The response is harsh as Alucard whimpers in pain. Not looking away from Trevor, he can feel a knife piercing into his chest. It takes all of Trevor's strength to keep his hand steady- the knife in place.</p><p>"I can still rip your throat out."</p><p>"You can, but it won't stop me staking you."</p><p>"But you will still die." Alucard drones.</p><p>The glint in Trevor's eyes only brighten as he smiles and whispers,</p><p>"But I don't care," he gasps, "killing you was the pint. Living through it was just a luxury."</p><p>Alucard dips his head slightly before laughing cynically.</p><p>The faint glow of light brightens the scene before them. Alucard turns to find Sypha holding her a torch at him.</p><p>"I thought I was your legendary savior."</p><p>Her indignant expression doesn't waiver as she speaks.</p><p>"So, did I. But he saved my life. His goal is mine to stand up for the people."</p><p>Alucard ponders this for a moment.</p><p>"Good," he responds, addressing both individuals, "Very good. An actor and a speaker. You'll do."</p><p>Alucard rises effortlessly. Trevor stares at him bewildered as the sword falls from its place.</p><p>"Known to the Wallachian as Alucard, the people refer to me as their 'sleeping solder'," he pulls the cloak of his hood down revealing his face, "since both of you will be staying, I should formally introduce myself."</p><p>Trevor scoots back finding support against the wall in utter disbelief.</p><p>"My name is Adrian Tepes, son of Vlad Dracula Tepes."</p><p>Alucard or Adrian as most of his close associates referred to him as had been inhabiting the catacombs for sanctuary. Upon a huge falling out with his father, Adrian suffered from an accident scarring his body. Now back at his room, Sypha sat perfectly still on a stool while Trevor leaned against his favorite wall taking in all the information.</p><p>"My father nor I were with my mother that night. She was killed, yet all her possessions remained on her person. The crime was deemed to be personal. My father took it that way threatening the leading figures. Upon the eve of the anniversary of her death, my father sat down to meet with his counsel. His anger towards how the death of his wife was handled has done nothing but fuel his hatred for humans. I fear if something is not done war will be inevitable."</p><p>"You mentioned your father had gotten a death threat at the restaurant." Trevor speaks up.</p><p>Adrian nods. He hadn't taken a seat. He stood in nothing but black leather books and tight leather pants with a black belt. His slender pale upper body was lightly frame with muscle. He didn't look like a fighter, much less a solder. The large fleshy scar ran diagonally across his chest disappearing at his right hip and starting at his left shoulder was the only indication of an accident.</p><p>"With that said, I have heard speak of traitors in his court. I am not certain as of who, but I can almost imagine it will be soon."</p><p>He turns to Sypha,</p><p>"As a speaker, you are aware that this story isn't exactly history?"</p><p>Sypha blushes lightly responding with a hastened yes.</p><p>"History in the making." Adrian nods.</p><p>"I wasn't aware of that."</p><p>"Why do you think I tried to explain it to you?"Sypha prompts.</p><p>"I hate Speakers." Trevor grunts before pushing himself to stand on his own. Adrian begins to dress throwing on a light white shirt and the same balck jacket from the other night. He slides a sword into the case attached to his belt buckle.</p><p>"So why do you care?" Trevor asks shooting him a look.</p><p>Adrian pays him no attention before answering.</p><p>"Because it is what my mother would have wanted."</p><p>Trevor sighs thinking back to what Adrian had once told him in one of his writing sessions.</p><p>'And we are all, in the end, slaves to our families wishes.'</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Interlude:</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>LOVE THIS IDEA.<br/>In the show, they actually do this flashback where we do get to see and meet Lisa Tepes. I like her character and I think showing her reveals a bit of why the significance of her death plows the characters' motivations.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Her name was Lisa Tepes. There are not many women that would seek out the Count and few were every there for anything other than pleasure or money. Humans were disgusting to him. Except her.</p><p>Lisa of Wallachia whose bright eyes hungrily ate up every bit of knowledge he could provide her regarding medicine. The woman was a skilled doctor- one would say a natural as she aided anyone willing to venture out to their remote cabin for help. Lisa who was assiduous in her work, took great pride in being able to care for those who had been casted out by the ruling figures. They didn't understand the prowess medicine and science over religion. This blithe fact left Lisa unable to reason with them. Instead, she sought out Dracula, a man shrouded in mystery. After the first great war that left most of the land in disarray, Wallachia was one of the few surviving masses (no doubt because Dracula resided here). It was on the steps of this great castle she knocked.</p><p>To her surprise the doors simply opened. A warm heat invited her in, and Lisa fell for the trap of feeling safe. Her body relaxed, but her mind remained sharp. Afterall, one does not simply walk into the den of a predator without being alert. At first, the man, himself, stuck to the shadows. His deep voice echoed through the vast entrance way. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck rise.</p><p>He was stalking her. Toying with her. It was rather carp. His tone was callous at best, but Lisa, being, well, a strong-headed and sensible being, worked on gaining his trust. Her honesty and ignorance were both shocking yet endearing. It had been quite a few decades since he had spoken to someone in such a colloquial manner. Lisa must have known who he was or rather what he was. A matter that didn't change the fact she was ready too easily set up refuge in his home in order to be taught.</p><p>Dracula grew to like this woman. It didn't take long for her to learn medicine. In fact, by the time he officially began using the name Vlad, she was well off. Her practice grew. Her hunger was slated; it was not satisfied. It wasn't until their third year together that Vlad fell in love. It was an emotion he didn't believe he possessed. Their relationship didn't evolve from their easily as he realized his true feelings. Most of the time, he spent his nights bruting in both fear and anger.</p><p>"Humans are weak," he reasoned with himself, "what happens when she dies or decides she's had enough? She will surely leave you."</p><p>Staring into the burning fire of his private study, Dracula sipped at his whiskey trying to find consonance with these thoughts. To love a human was one thing, but to be in love was something of an entirely new caliber. How would other Elites perceive him knowing he had turned away from the life set before him to pursue a lie with a human woman?</p><p>It seemed out of the question, yet he was fighting his instincts and better judgement due to feelings. How long had it been since he knew the touch of a woman? Dracula rubbed his face trying to avoid such thoughts. It seemed wrong to think of Lisa in such a way. He respected her. He admired her. He loved her.</p><p>The sound of glass breaking brought him back to the room. The fire had died down barely grazing his skin with warmth. It still felt good as he tried to enjoy the last basks of heat before it truly went out. His hand had glass shards stuck in it and the sting of the whiskey didn't bother him as much as it should. Dracula made no advancements to leave. Beyond the closed doors behind him was a woman he desperately sought out but could not have. Closing his eyes, he sighed to himself feeling defeated.</p><p>"I do love her so."</p><p>Upon the fifth year together, Vlad had obtained the rights to a small theatre. It was rustic and inexpensive, but with renovations, it could be something grand. Vlad had blind-folder Lisa to evince the investment: she squealed in delight as if proud that he took interest in the mundane of human society.</p><p>He was trying- maybe too hard. He traveled like men. They walked, rode horses, or drove wagons. Vlad was impartial to the second and third option, so he walked. His attire changed. No longer did he hide behind the dark, satin cape, instead he openly wore his face. Vlad was a doctor as well or a teacher. He didn't realize it until he was listening to the soft snores of his wife that he has fallen badly. Vlad glanced over at her face- it was soft and gentle even in sleep. He could hear her heart steadily beat. It was a beautiful sound. One he knew he would sorely miss if it stopped. Such thoughts didn't render into capacity until Lisa became pregnant with their first son. In the excitement and daze of being a parent, he remembered them painting the walls and laughing about what to name the child. Vlad knew no matter what, he had to protect them both. A strong name for a strong child born of both worlds.</p><p>"He will never fit in," Vlad disclosed to her one evening, "The humans will never accept him as theirs nor will the vampires."</p><p>Lisa only hummed at his concerns kissing his temple and speaking in hushed tones. She didn't say anything about his worries until the next morning. Her glib tone was something to be feared. Vlad was convinced this woman was madder than a hatter at best. She acknowledges the fact that this child would be of two halves, yet he would prove that vampires and humans were no different than they were the same.</p><p>"He shall be his own person- an entirely new being filled with love and laughter and light. He will be Adrian."</p><p>Later, when he was born, Lisa mentioned that Alucard was a nice formal name fitting of a vampire prince. A name that was in all forms the exact opposite of Dracula.</p><p>"No, listen!" Her frighten blue eyes turn an even more sickening color of pale as she pleads with the towns leader who is dressed in his ceremonial robes. Two of his guards have seized her arms holding her in place.</p><p>"Please, you don't know what you're going to bring upon yourself if you harm me."</p><p>"You threaten me?" The man asks sneering each word. He steps to her casting down a disgusted look.</p><p>"Listen! Just let me go." Lisa pleads feeling her heart being to pound. The theatre is practically empty. The guards have her pinned with her back pushed into the balcony of box seven. It is her favorite spot to sit and watch rehearsals. Tonight, she had come to discuss a deal regarding a few speakers to borrow the space to host some of their legendary encomium. Upon her arrival, she realized the front doors had been forcefully open ajar. Lisa ran in without thinking finding the man and his guardsmen waiting.</p><p>Now, staring with wide eyes, Lisa can already tell the man has decided her sentenced.</p><p>"You threaten me with monsters?"</p><p>"No! He is much worse because he is real!"</p><p>The strike to her face comes with no surprise. The pain is still the same as her head snaps to the side. Lisa breath grows ragged as she spits out blood. Her body slumps a bit in the arms of the men. The leader bows lower in front of her raising her face up with his index finger. There is nothing in those eyes of his as he nods.</p><p>"Throw her away. She had defiled this town and its people long enough."</p><p>Lisa screams out that he can't do this. Her husband has come so far, but her protests are short lived as the guardsmen lift her up. She squirms in their grasp looking out at the beautiful place they built together- the life she built with Vlad was one she could have never imagined.</p><p>"Please," she begs to herself, "Don't harm them."</p><p>The last words spoken before she falls three stories to her death.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Act Thirteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"And exactly how did you know to come down here?" Trevor asks as the trio ascend the stairs to the main floor. Sypha glances at him and frowns, "I never got a chance to tell Alucard about the others leaving. I didn't want to think about it yet since there's still time left, but who knows how long until we can solve this. I found the door wide open and no candles lit."</p><p>"You thought I killed him?" Adrian pipes up from in front of them. He doesn't turn to meet their perplexed gazes. Instead, he leads them to the common area which is reserved for the private patrons.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, we see more of the dream team kinda coming together. I wanted to add more Sypha because I love her. I also love how both Adrian and Trevor have this rivalry/ friendship thing going on, but it's up to interpretation.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"And exactly how did you know to come down here?" Trevor asks as the trio ascend the stairs to the main floor. Sypha glances at him and frowns, "I never got a chance to tell Alucard about the others leaving. I didn't want to think about it yet since there's still time left, but who knows how long until we can solve this. I found the door wide open and no candles lit."</p><p>"You thought I killed him?" Adrian pipes up from in front of them. He doesn't turn to meet their perplexed gazes. Instead, he leads them to the common area which is reserved for the private patrons.</p><p>"I didn't know what was happening until I heard you both speaking. It was then I saw you pinning Trevor to the ground and he stabbed you."</p><p>Trevor chuckles at this. Two sets of eyes glare at him and he feigns mock surrender holding up his hands.</p><p>"Lighten up, I doubt ballad boy over there would have let me kill him."</p><p>"Ballad boy?" Adrian's posture stiffens more than is physically possible.</p><p>"Trevor, Adrian, stop! We have until the end of the month. If rumor of the troupe leaving gets out, then I'm sure it will lure the culprit out as well."</p><p>The matter at hand was where did they start. Trevor still held unresolved anger towards Alucard-Adrian- whoever he was. The whole double identity was rather twisted if he was honest. And for what? So, he could hide from daddy and write a wretched story about himself? That was narcissistic. It was more messed up at the fact this guy led both him and Sypha on playing helpless artist and the stuck-up prince.</p><p>Even now they followed him to the commons before he sat down letting out an exhausted sigh.</p><p>"Do make yourself comfortable. We have much to think about."</p><p>"You have some nerve." Trevor shakes his head before falling into a love seat across from Adrian. Sypha sits beside the actor. The dhampir watches them intently before leaning back in his chair. His golden eyes never leave them.</p><p>"Are you two involved?"</p><p>The question is nothing short of random. In fact, Trevor doesn't see why it is important.</p><p>"Are you serious!" Trevor calls out leaning forward in his seat.</p><p>"Quite, actually. It will make things a lot harder if you are both attached."</p><p>Sypha doesn't say anything. Her eyebrows raised, and she remained passive. Trevor looks to her for help but finds no answer.</p><p>"I do believe it goes without saying, things could get dangerous and if your judgement is compromised, you could surely risk putting the plan in jeopardy." Adrian continues.</p><p>"I believe we'll be fine," Sypha smiles, "Trevor is like a grumpy bear who follows me around. He means no harm except to those who deserve it."</p><p>Her childish remark gains no laugh as Trevor narrows his eyes at a rather calm Adrian who neither smirks nor chuckles.</p><p>"You seem rather attached." Sypha implies with her hand.</p><p>It is Adrian's turn to look away staring into a mirror that takes up most of the adjacent wall.</p><p>"My father warned me of the dangers of falling for humans," he spoke solemnly, "after she died, he dismissed the notion. I do not believe I am entitled to marry, but the idea of a partnership of any kind is rather... distant. I serve only to protect our assets."</p><p>"What do you want?" Sypha prods.</p><p>Her natural intuition and busy-body behavior seemed to have no off switch. Trevor leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He felt feverish. It may have been the fact that he hadn't slept nor eaten properly since the night Adrian took him to dinner. The chili had weighed him down the next day causing him to throw it up.</p><p>"I want to end this." With that Adrian returns to discussing the matter at hand. He explains how his father has gathered a war counsel- it is a few handfuls of powerful Elites who are discussing their terms with the humans.</p><p>"I fear my father has turned a naked eye and might begin a new war."</p><p>Trevor can imagine the night horde raining from the sky wreaking havoc. Did the people deserve it?</p><p>No.</p><p>Were they lied to?</p><p>Yes.</p><p>Their town's leader was downright out of his mind. The man gave Trevor a bad feeling. They had only met once. There was only one Belmont name that came to mind when people heard it. The leader thought to 'speak' with the actor regarding the terms of his family's legacy and title. A heart to heart that felt rather like a threat than a peace offering. Trevor eventually declined joining the man and leaving. Both options on more occasions than not had almost gotten him into serious fights. The guardsmen seemed to tail him in town; shows often had at least one or two high ranking council members within the audience. Trevor was never truly alone.</p><p>"Why the secrecy?" He speaks up.</p><p>"I don't quite-"</p><p>"Why were you really in the basement?"</p><p>"I believe I already told you."</p><p>Trevor sighs, "Look Alu-Adrien, this is too much for one night. It's one thing to try to kill me and another to brush off the fact that you were, not a second ago, a poet clinging to a robe to hide that ugly smirk you like to wear. I think it's best if we call it a night."</p><p>The ruffle of fabric lets the actor know Adrian has stood up. It is within the blink of an eye, the Elite hovers over him, standing directly behind the couch. His golden eyes stare at down at the man apathetically.</p><p>"I have my reasons Belmont." He places a hand under the actor's chin tipping his head back to get a full view of his neck. The prince lowers his head, side eyeing Sypha as he does so. She grits her teeth staring between two me. Trevor's eyes flash between her and him; he can feel Adrien's hot breath on his cheek. It is rather unsettling considering the Elite was half-alive.</p><p>"Either way, a tragedy is but that, a tragedy. Whatever is to happen, I hope you're prepared Hunter," he sides-eye Sypha, "and scholar. I believe we have a show to put on."</p><p>Adrien stands to his full height bowing his head and declaring his leave. Though he has Sypha's company, Trevor felt the absence of the Elite. It was strange how everything changes so suddenly. He longed for the days when his highlight was sneaking off into the catacombs to listen to the wailing piano is now but a memory. Sypha's head falls upon his chest as her soft breaths turn to snores. Trevor struggles to lift his head. Watching her sleep brings a blush to his face, he turns away with embarrassment. This felt too natural- Glancing to his right at the mirror, they made a beautiful pair. Trevor couldn't help but smile faintly thinking of what it would be like to fall asleep everyday with her by his side.</p><p>His hand finds the top of her head stroking through the thick locks at arrange themselves so neatly befitting the young woman. It takes every ounce of restraint not to drop a kiss on her forehead. The actor closed his eyes taking at this moment as if it were his last and honestly if it was, the trepidation of being this close to someone else made his heart race. Sweat prickled his forehead as the room grows too bright. Something so menial as breathing became harder as smoke filled his lungs.</p><p>"Trevor!" his mother screamed rousing him from his sleep. The boy heaved heavily trying to catch a breath as a cold surfaced was pressed against his nose and mouth forcefully. It made it even harder for him to figure out what was happening. Sleep still pulled at his temporarily leaving him incoherent of the world around him. It all felt like he was out of body watching the events from a third point of view. Trevor can't remember the last things his mother told him earlier that night. He isn't even sure why she would run into his room to save him. She should have been trying to save his sister.</p><p>Frail arms lifted him up with ease. The warm of his bed seemed so much colder now that he was exposed to the heat. The air was heavy with smoke. The flush of heat was almost too intense; he often wondered if this is what the sun felt like. His skin was licked by the embers as his mother clutched him into her arms. He could feel her staccato of a heartbeat. The rhythm was as wild and heavy as the hooves of the bison his father would go out to hunt. Outside there are chants and screams; hands like silhouettes reach out from beyond the threshold of the windows trying to break in. The flames consume anything it hungers for leaving no object untouched. For the briefest moments, Trevor can see the piano in the corner surrounded by the fire. It sat there crying out the words that escaped his throat. He reached out to grasp it even as his small body fell to the ground. The piano never left his sight. Trevor landed headfirst onto the scorching flame- the air in his lungs escaped his breath as he gasped. His eyes searched frantically for his mother, but everything was red or grey. He screamed. He screamed. He screamed!</p><p>Trevor didn't even recognize the foyer until a beautiful crème colored pillar collapsed from the pressure of the ceiling falling in slow motion. He winced imaging what it sounded like crashing into his body. The sound of cracking bones was faint as he laid there letting the fire consume him. Trevor didn't dare to move. How could he? Everything he knew as a Belmont was burning. Everything he had loved was dying. The piano disappeared with a blink of his eyes just as his mother had. The fire roared and cursed and wailed as if, it too, felt something because he felt nothing but hatred.</p><p>Trevor didn't know how he had gotten outside. His right eye was still bandaged so he relied heavily on his left to see. His feet dragged the ground as he struggled to get to the clearing in the back of the yard. Instinct and a hunger to survive guided him into the darkest night he had ever faced.</p><p>The stars and the moon seemed consumed by the orange sky that stretched for miles. It wasn't long before he collapsed against the cool forest ground. The mud served as an analgesic against his burnt flesh. Trevor coughed up a lung trying to breathe. Not enough oxygen could be swallowed in one gulp causing the boy to panic. His eyes bulged out of his skull while he clawed at his neck. A heavy hand descended upon him easily lifting the boy up. Holding him by the very hairs of his head, Trevor struggled, not only to breathe but to fight the man cloaked in white threading. His voice is no louder than the fire itself and just as heated.</p><p>Trevor watches his family home burn as the people chant their cheers. It is here, in this moment, he learns the true nature of people: hatred consumes lives like a fire. One spark and everything is gone. He chokes back sobs screaming out his mother's name. The boy looks up to see the ghost of his imagination stares into the flames speaking idly.</p><p>"Remember this night, my dear boy," the man strokes a lock of Trevor's hair as the boy squirms, "There is no running from the fire for she will always have what she wishes to consume."</p><p>That night, something breaks inside that child. Whoever he was, died in the flames. It is a night that sticks out so clearly in his mind that almost all his other memories have been burned away leaving nothing but scars. That night, Trevor becomes the sole heir of the Belmont family.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Act Fourteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Since Trevor isn't due to come to the theatre in two days, he takes time to head home instead of staying at the local tavern in town. The money that Trevor gets is enough to afford a small room over on Montague street near the edge of the town opposite of the district where Elites often stayed. The reason that his rent was so cheap was that people would rather face a vampire than what laid beyond the edge of the tree-line. It was rumored that a few of the creatures from the night horde still lingered near these parts.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I think this is a good chapter. Honestly, this story isn't going how I intended to write it, but I like it. Heck, it is unique and I stand by my work, so I hope you guys enjoy it lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Since Trevor isn't due to come to the theatre in two days, he takes time to head home instead of staying at the local tavern in town. The money that Trevor gets is enough to afford a small room over on Montague street near the edge of the town opposite of the district where Elites often stayed. The reason that his rent was so cheap was that people would rather face a vampire than what laid beyond the edge of the tree-line. It was rumored that a few of the creatures from the night horde still lingered near these parts. On a few occasions, Trevor had even seen carcasses left of sheep with chunks of their stomach missing. It is both unsettling and familiar to him. Though it isn't a real home, it is enough for Trevor to keep a few items. He buys flowers to cultivate and grow. There are a few outfits in the wardrobes that he never wears. He has no pictures. If he's being honest, there are no personal possessions. The only thing he was able to acquire was a whip hand made by his father. It is made of fine, genuine cowhide (leather) and it leaves a nasty scar on anyone who finds themselves on the retrieving end.</p><p>As Trevor makes his way around the small bedroom, there is a knock at the door. None of the troupe dare venture out this far-even if they did, most likely it would be at the request of Sypha. That is what Trevor likes about Montague street: the seclusion. So, for someone to have ventured this far outside the general city thresholds meant one of two things.</p><p>Trevor carefully grabs ahold of the knife he keeps tucked in his pelt. He aligns the blade with his forearm just as his father taught him. It is the fastest way to cut someone with clean precision. The actor moves quietly avoiding every floorboard that creaks under the slightest of pressure. His feet are no more than a soft shuffle against the wood. It is a skill that's taken him years to perfect.</p><p>There are only two things that could potentially be on the other side of the sorry excuse for a door.</p><p>It could be a creature of the night. It wasn't like the monsters couldn't open doors or think coherently for themselves. The bastards just happened to be a bit more able-bodied than most of the prey Trevor hunted.</p><p>The other option (one he readily refused to be an option) was a vampire. Trevor almost laughed this thought off. The only vampire- dhampir- he knew could show up was likely somewhere bruiting about how much he hated his life (geez, that guy was such a prissy). Trevor pushed his back into the wall parallel to the door. Holding his breath, he reached out to open it. The knob turned slowly-the creak of the door painstakingly loud- allowing the door to open. Trevor jumps quickly to action taking in the scene before him.</p><p>Hector stood there, beaten and bloodied with those soft boyish eyes staring at the chasseur: pleading for help. The poor kid reached out one arm before falling over. Trevor quickly grabbed him firmly by the underarms and began walking backwards dragging the boy into his threshold at an odd angle. It took some careful maneuvering before Trevor finally got him to lay down on his side. Hector immediately began to dry retch. The man's clothes were torn, and large gashes covered his ribs while bruises lingered on his chest. His shoes were missing leaving bloodied footprints on the wooden floors. His hair was damp with sweat; his breathing labored; one side of his face battered and swollen. Two pristine bite marks highlighted his soft, crème skin that heated something deep in Trevor's throat. It was revolting. Obviously, Hector was suffering from severe blood loss and lack of food, maybe dehydration. The actor began to pace running a hand through his hair. He blew out an exasperated sigh. He was no doctor; he couldn't even begin to think of the extension of damage done to this poor boy. The man was barely breathing as it was. His blue eyes, so full of life and energy, were a dull gray struggling to stay open. He wasn't coherent or responsive. Trevor would call his name and the poor boy would bite his lip as if struggling to form a sentence before breaking down into sobs that led to more heaving. The stench of him alone was enough to repulse the actor. That was the final straw. The actor stripped the man of the soiled clothes with much protest. Hector kept screaming at him to stop. It was the only response he had gotten out of the younger man.</p><p>"I'll be good. I'll do what you want. Please!" He begged breaking down. It nearly choked Trevor up enough that he worked faster to unbutton the dirt-stained tunic. Shivers ran down his spine as the cold fingers wrapped around his wrist growling at him. Hector, even in bad shape, had some fight left in him. Pulling away, Trevor searched for some items to provide Hector with (more so he needed to think of what to do).</p><p>The actor found an extra wool blanket, draping it upon the man before rubbing his face in frustration. Hector didn't seem aware of where he was. He had barely spoken unless it was to feverishly protest. He was delusional. Trevor looked down at the young man on his floor who struggled to properly breathe. One of his ribs were surely broken.</p><p>"I'll be back soon." The actor whispered while donning on his bear fur cloak. The man didn't even stir seemingly slipping into a heavy slumber. Trevor made sure to leave out a cup of water and slightly stale honeyed bread as well as a note that he would be back with a doctor. Standing outside in the dead of winter, the barren land provided no serenity to his uneasy mind. Who had done that to Hector? Most importantly, why was the man left alive and why did he come here?</p><p>Something wasn't right. Trevor began to walk towards the town seemingly aware that his senses were heightened. His first instinct was to go fetch the troupe doctor but ultimately decided against it. Another civilian pulled into this mess might bring about more death which didn't settle well with the chasseur. Instead, he sought out the only other doctor available.</p><p>Trevor had never been one to openly explore the town he was currently residing in. Still, Ms. Djuvara had spoken enough about the beautiful cabin located just south of the town square. It had, at one time, belonged to Lisa Tepes. Trevor found it with ease asking one of the sellers if she knew of it. Her short smile and wandering eyes had earned him both a piece of dried jerky and the location of the homestead. It was a relief to find smoke rising from the chimney. The stone house was both cozy and quaint, the very opposite of both The Count and his son. He couldn't imagine either of them living so humbly: so human. Trevor reached out to knock on the door when it flung open instantly. A large wolf, in a low, crouched position growls a warning. Trevor has hunted many animals. He knows wolves far too well. They hunt for miles, even days, once they become fixated on a scent. It is nearly impossible to outrun one even if he owned a horse. The actor makes no sudden movements as the wolf rises to his full height: his head stopping around Trevor's shoulders. It watches with yellow eyes that seem far to intelligent for its own good as it peaks it head out the doorway.</p><p>"You must be Alucard's pet." Trevor talks at it. The wolf bares it teeth though it doesn't growl. He notices his mistake instantly. Trevor begins to slowly step back, and the wolf watches his moves. The actor keeps his hands up in blunt submission.</p><p>"Is Adrien here?" He asks calmly. Most people would think him mad to speak to an animal as if it is human- there is something about its eyes that seem almost aware of what it's saying. It is so bizarre that it's almost familiar. Trevor doesn't realize he's been walking further away from the door until his back hits the rough bark of a tree. The wolf seems to disappear for a second before its giant paws are pinned to his chest; it snarls showing long, pearly white canines that could easily shear through cow hide. It is enough to make Trevor shake slightly in anticipation rather than fear. To be mauled by a wolf was not the kind of death he had in mind. If anything, Trevor would rather die by the bottle than like this. The wolf, now standing on his hind legs, looked down at Trevor with calculating eyes. The man stared up at it seeing his own reflection and a nervous laugh escaped his lips. The wolf, or Trevor's imagination, seemed rather perplexed as this reaction. Its full weight wasn't leaning into Trevor who realized he could have easily pushed the animal back if he wanted too. He didn't though. That would only spur it to attack. Instead, he admired the strength of its lean body and the muscular physique. Its snow-white hair was breath-taking as the sunlight danced off the fur revealing golden highlights.</p><p>Trevor was a huge animal lover. Even if this was the last animal he ever saw, it was still a beautiful creature he couldn't quite bring himself to kill. The knife was easily accessible from his belt loop where his hand rested. Somehow, he knew this creature wouldn't kill him. It had no malice in its eyes.</p><p>"I do say, as nice as this is," Trevor began to stir slightly granting him a guttural growl, "I need Adrien. I've got a dying man lying on my floor and he needs a doctor." Trevor adds a 'you're welcome to come along too.' The wolf doesn't move for a moment as if considering his words. Without second thought, it leans its huge muzzle in and begins sniffing Trevor. That cold wet nose rubs against the side of his neck causing the actor to frown.</p><p>He forcibly pushes at the chest of the wolf who ignores this and leans its entire weight onto him. It is uncomfortable. It is weird. Trevor is glad no one can see him getting fondled by an overgrown dog. Oh, how far the Belmonts have fallen from grace.</p><p>"Look here, I really do need to speak to-" The wolf seemingly cuts him off by licking his face. The wet tongue leaves saliva in his mouth and Trevor recoils. It is warm. He spits on the ground feeling more than irritated.</p><p>"Really!" He yells.</p><p>The wolf, more than satisfied, plops to the ground on all four and lays its giant head on its front legs. It closes its eyes. Trevor grinds his teeth. The wolf was just as cheeky and a nuisance as Adrian, if not more so. The actor treks back towards the cabin shocked by its neatness. The candles are lit, and the house is warm and inviting. It smells of incense: lavender and honey. Trevor eyes the vast number of tomes that lingered on the bookshelves labeled in vast languages. Open books lingered on the exam table in the center of the room. It had various bottles and liquids upon it. Smashed herbs and notes were sprawled in the messy cursive he recognized as Alucard's.</p><p>"It is rude to enter one's home without an invitation."</p><p>Trevor jumps out of his skin spinning around to find Adrien hovering over him in an unsettling manner. The dhampir has one eyebrow raised in a questioning manner as his golden eyes glow with sly animation. Without the cape and damp scent of mildew and feces, it feels unnatural to be this close. Trevor shuffles back bumping into a chair. He lets out a long breath, rubbing a hand over his face.</p><p>"Aren't you the one who needs an invitation?" Trevor spits.</p><p>The insult comes up short of stagnate of making actual sense which causes Adrien to smirk.</p><p>"You needed me?" The dhampir chirps.</p><p>"A dying man is in need of you, not me." Trevor deadpans. The actor pushes past the prince before he is yanked back. Adrien turns him around in one swift motion, so they face each other. The proximity of their bodies and the slight tilt of Trevor's head to look up at Adrian is oddly intimate in the candle lighting. The actor flushes trying to yank his wrist out of the other creature's grasp. Adrian's hold, however, is unwavering.</p><p>"You have yet to tell me what you need of me."</p><p>"Did I not just mention a dying man!"</p><p>"Yes, but how am I to help?"</p><p>The question doesn't go unanswered as Trevor reminds the royal idiot; he is a doctor.</p><p>"I never said I was."</p><p>"You stitched my arm and gave me medicine." Trevor retorts.</p><p>"Still," Adrian releases his wrist and folds his hands over his bare chest, "I am no doctor. I do not believe I can help."</p><p>Trevor gives up. He bids him a good day heading towards the door.</p><p>"Belmont." Adrian calls after him as Trevor opens the door. He glances around realizing the wolf is gone.</p><p>"Where did ya pet go?" The actor asks turning to find Adrian, yet again, right behind him.</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"The giant, two-hundred- and fifty-pound white wolf that was literally napping over by the oak tree."</p><p>Adrian puts on a mask of complete innocence saying he never had nor saw a wolf. If he thinks Trevor can't see the pretense of the situation, he is wrong. The actor had heard tales of how some Elites had antediluvian abilities to shift their forms. He had read about it in one of the mass volumes from the Belmont Library. It was a very rare gift- few believed it was real.</p><p>"Look, I didn't come here to argue or for you to pull another one of your mind tricks. Just help me, please."</p><p>The Belmonts are probably thrashing around in their graves right now as he uttered those words. He, Trevor Belmont, last heir of the Belmont family, notorious chasseur that killed vampires, just begged his sworn enemy for help. Adrian nods grabbing a medical bag and his characteristic black petticoat before following Trevor out into the woods.</p><p>They walk in silence. Since Trevor doesn't know the circumstances surroundings Hector's injuries or why the man sought him out specifically, he doesn't dare speak openly. You never know who's listening. Adrian remains at his side never missing a step. It is so out of character; Trevor can't help but watch him from his peripheral view.</p><p>Those golden eyes look everywhere but at him seemingly avoiding the actor's gaze. About halfway into their walk when they've reached the city's threshold again, Trevor breaks in a light stroll. Regardless of trying to blend in with the shuffling afternoon crowds of traders and sellers, they still stand out. Alucard-Adrian- stands out like the sore thumb of an Elite he is. His presence radiates a certain aurora of power and money. The intensity of his glare roots itself into a permanent scowl painted onto his mosaic like face. How such a delicate looking creature could radiate such an elegant prowess is beyond logic. The dhampir is a walking contradiction. He almost floats above the ground standing tall and proud; the crowds of people seem to part for him as he walks by. Adrian Tepes was a sight for sore eyes. Anyone caught in his gaze was instantly stunned by such an unorthodox beauty. Trevor found his increasingly vexing considering they didn't have time for shop owners and merchants to basically gravel at the creature's feet begging him to taste their products. Adrian didn't seem bothered by the attention.</p><p>Trevor could almost mistake this as narcissism, however, the dhampir's shoulders stiffen when anyone reached out to touch him. The actor hurried them through the city square reaching a back alley, before turning a few more times on avoiding the main roads. When they reached the city outskirts, Adrian relaxed thanking the man. Trevor dismissed it as his civic duty to help. Like him, Adrian understood what it was like to live on the outside of a world made of glass. It was fragile to the touch. A touch neither of them possessed. What a right pair they were.</p><p>The thought made Trevor grimace earning him a strange look. Montague street was more of a road than anything. The graveled pavement turned into dirt as they reached the row houses. Since most of the residence were either addicts or alcoholics, no one dared get into another person's business. Everyone kept to themselves going about their days as they would until they dropped dead. It was one of the luxuries Trevor came to like: he was never burdened with fitting into the ranks of society. Adrian scrunched his nose up as they walked up to the door.</p><p>"So, this is where the great Belmont lives?" The cheeky comment didn't go unanswered.</p><p>"Why? You want to go back to living in a coffin underground flooded with rat crap!" Trevor shot back.</p><p>"At least the neighbors had common mannerism." Adrian retorted stepping over a a woman slumped over who was draped in rags. Trevor rolled his eyes, climbing the stairs to his home. It was nothing special on the outside besides Old Maid who sat at the base of the house sleeping. Other than that, it was old, a bit drafty, but comfortable. Trevor pulled out a key before unlocking it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Act Fifteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The house was the same a s he had left it. Hector still laid on the floor with his head propped up on a pillow and the blanket thrown loosely over him. Adrian walked past Trevor kneeling to get a better view at the man. Trevor headed off to the small kitchen equipped with a stove and a sink. He pumped some water out into a pot to begin boiling. Adrian didn't summon him until the water was boiling over.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Doctor Adrian!!!<br/>I just assume because his mother was one, he would follow in her footsteps. Oh, how Trevor literally needs Adrian, but still hates him, yet appreciates him is so funny to me.<br/>Enjoy the chapter!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The house was the same a s he had left it. Hector still laid on the floor with his head propped up on a pillow and the blanket thrown loosely over him. Adrian walked past Trevor kneeling to get a better view at the man. Trevor headed off to the small kitchen equipped with a stove and a sink. He pumped some water out into a pot to begin boiling. Adrian didn't summon him until the water was boiling over.</p><p>"Three crackles ribs and quite a few lashings." Adrian spoke out to no one in particular. Trevor plopped down beside him watching the dhampir work. It was fascination that got the best of the actor as he watched Adrian work. The creature was efficient stripping the man down to nothing before gently guiding his hands to the places with the worst injuries. Because Hector was still on his side, Adrian could easily access the damage obtained. He worked quickly demanding Trevor get him strips of clothes or rags, dip it into the hot water and began thoroughly cleaning hector up. Trevor did as he was told. He scrambled to find rags, he dipped them in the water and handed them off to Adrian. They remained silent working tactfully to save Hector's life. The man retched some more spitting up water.</p><p>Trevor worked on making a light broth to ease the stomach pains. Hector's fever was way too high, so Adrian removed the blanket and opened a window letting the bitter winter air in. More candles were burnt. Firewood was thrown into the small fire pit. Trevor roasted some dried deer meat he had secured from a small hunting party he went out with. Adrian declined the food watching as Trevor sat down balancing the bowl and a cup of water in his hands. Gently the actor lifted Hector's head before placing it on his thigh before waking him up enough to spoon feed him a few tastes of soup. Hector ate greedily scarfing down whatever Trevor gave him. He was on his third cup of water when he began to shake violently.</p><p>Adrian began to administer some medicine- a clear liquid with a foul smell that reminded Trevor of feet. When all that was said and done, both men fell onto the kitchen chairs. Since Trevor had nothing stronger than an ale, they both sipped at that. Adrian still avoided looking at him often turning his head to keep an eye on Hector.</p><p>"Is there something wrong?" Trevor pressed. His voice was hushed as to not disturb the sick man.</p><p>Adrian shook his head implying it was nothing, but Trevor wouldn't take that as an answer.</p><p>"What is it? Spit it out already!"</p><p>"You."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"Why you? Why did Hector seek you out?"</p><p>Trevor shrugged stating he didn't know. Adrian glanced around assumingly displeased by the sparce lighting and compactness of the place.</p><p>"Why do you live here?"</p><p>"Why do you live here," Trevor quipped, "sometimes we just need to escape and be somebody else."</p><p>"Is that what you call it? 'Being someone else'?"</p><p>"Sypha's grandfather had asked me once what I was running from. I told him I wasn't, and he asked where I was running too. I didn't have an answer and he said maybe I have given up and decided I was defeated. It was true. I had given up on being a Belmont. For a while, I wasn't anything more than a drunk wandering with my head on backwards trying to find get as far away from the past as possible. When I got here, well, it was easy to be someone else when that's all I've been doing all my life. Now, I just get paid to do it."</p><p>Adrian looks up at him for the first time since this morning. It is a thoughtful look, one that is full of consideration.</p><p>"I lived in his shadow so long, I was beginning to think that's all I was. My mother believed us, willed us, to be our own people. It's been a long time since I've felt like myself," The dhampir admits, "then I met you and Sypha."</p><p>Trevor leans back in his chair swirling his cup of ale around. The room is thick, and his vision is blurry.</p><p>"Do you think we'll live through this?" He asks quietly knowing Adrian can hear him.</p><p>"Probably not."</p><p>The short answer is left at that. The two men sit there for hours not thinking or saying a word. Sleep tugs at Trevor's eyelids causing him to nearly fall out of the chair. Adrian tells him he'll stay over the night to monitor Hector while the actor sleeps. Trevor begins to protest, but Adrian holds up a finger cutting him off.</p><p>"I've been sleeping for a good year," he jokes, "I think I've slept more than enough in my lifetime."</p><p>With that said, Trevor trudges to the bedroom closing the door before throwing off his shirt and pants. He lies there under the covers staring up at the ceiling. If Hector was involved with Lenore, then her sisters would have known. The Baroness, along with two other equally terrifying Elites, had stayed behind during the initial investigation. No one was seated in box seven which was reserved for the dilettante, so why was Lenore's body so far away from her own box. It would have been nearly impossible to carry a body without being seen since the box's entrances bled into a private hallway littered with attendants. If it had been an attendant, then it could account for the easy accessibility to get to and from without much as a second glance. Still, it would have required maybe three people at most to carry out such a scene. How had Lenore's body been dropped from box seven?</p><p>It was not coincidence. The Count's wife died the same way, but her body had been moved into the alley beside the theatre. It was a rather bizarre case of how a corpse could get up and walk itself outside. There was no evidence surrounding how she died or how she got outside. The authorities wrote it off as an accident. When the Count brought up how one of the Council men had threatened her, they wrote it off as circumstantial. Trevor could easily see why the vampire hated humanity. The entire case was obviously bias- the townspeople turned murders by corrupt government officials.</p><p>Still, none of this connected with Lenore- an Elite diplomat. As an ambassador, it was her job to keep the peace, so why kill her in such a fasion. In order to hurt the Count, wouldn't they have tried to end his life already or Adrian's. Unless it wasn't about them initially. Hector, a human, had grown infatuated by Lenore. Could she have had a male suitor? It wasn't unlikely, though Adrian would have mentioned something like that.</p><p>There is something else. Trevor rolls over shutting his eyes trying to find sleep which seems to evade him no matter how tired he feels. If only Sypha was here, she would be able to piece together the clues. He has already asked enough of Adrian for the day and his pride will literally choke him if he admits he's not smart enough to see the bigger picture. Whatever the case may be, Trevor knows the perpetrator will make another move. With only two weeks left until the troupe leaves, the trio have no time to waste before whoever is doing this disappears/</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Act Sixteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sunlight peaks through the window shining directly into his eyes. It is a subtle wakeup call that leaves Trevor temporarily disoriented as he lays there trying to gather his bearings. There is a permanent chill in the air probably due to Adrian leaving the window open last night. The events from yesterday flood his mind instantly causing the actor to sit up. He is only met with silence. It is all too tempting to sink back down unto the mattress and curl up under the covers. Sleep is a luxury Trevor can't really afford, but still overindulges in it from time to time. His eyes are still heavy; his body still demanding at least an hour of rest before facing the rest of what is to come.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Idek what my notes are anymore and uh stuff is gonna happen so let me warn you that like it's gonna get intense and I lowkey cried writing the next few chapters lol so just fore warning yall, somebody got to go....<br/>Enjoy the read!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sunlight peaks through the window shining directly into his eyes. It is a subtle wakeup call that leaves Trevor temporarily disoriented as he lays there trying to gather his bearings. There is a permanent chill in the air probably due to Adrian leaving the window open last night. The events from yesterday flood his mind instantly causing the actor to sit up. He is only met with silence. It is all too tempting to sink back down unto the mattress and curl up under the covers. Sleep is a luxury Trevor can't really afford, but still overindulges in it from time to time. His eyes are still heavy; his body still demanding at least an hour of rest before facing the rest of what is to come. It is enough for him to swing his legs over the side of the bed. Standing up, the actor stretches- a sharp pain shoots through his shoulder causing him to wince from the overextension. Following the events of the previous weeks, exhaustion has set in reminding Trevor that tomorrow he is due back at the theatre. That gave him little time to recuperate and he still had to deal with the whole 'Hector situation'.</p><p>The actor trudged out of his bedroom to find the living room area. The kitchen was still clean from last night minus the fact the dishes were cleared from the sink. Trevor noticed the front door unlocked realizing Hector might have wandered off. In a spike of panic, he threw on his cloak and raced outside. It was still relatively early. Trevor had a habit of rising with the sun-it was the best time to go out hunting. Now, he stood on the small stoop looking out.</p><p>Adrian had to have taken Hector. It only made sense since he said he was going to monitor the situation. Still, it seemed odd that they would leave without so much as a notice. The sound of light screaming drew Trevor from his thoughts as a figure came into view. Hector, for all his effort, was limply running back to the house. Trevor jumped down the stairs (quite literally he might add) rushing towards the scene. It wasn't until Hector collided with the burly chasseur that his screaming was in fact laugher.</p><p>"Trevor, I never knew you had a pet wolf." His soft tenor voice sounded lighter than it should have considering the circumstances. He glanced up at the young actor with icy eyes almost as clear as a lake thawed over. Trevor began to object to his comment when, in fact, a very wily wolf came tiptoeing along with his head dipped low. It glanced between the two men before letting a howl taking a seat just out of reach of the property line. Trevor eyed it wearily.</p><p>"You seem better." He spoke not taking his eyes of the white wolf who seemed content to stay put where it sat.</p><p>"Well, I had woken up just before the sun rose to find that big fella eyeing me quite intensely. At first, I thought he was going to eat me, but instead it seemed as if he was just monitoring me," The younger man shrugged, "Beautiful creature isn't he."</p><p>Trevor nodded only half hearing him. The wolf stared right at Trevor. The actor sighed before turning on his heels. He directed Hector to follow him as they walked up the stairs. It wasn't until they reached the door that Trevor heard the first stair creak. He turned his head slightly to find the wolf trailing them from a safe distance. The actor made no effort to turn it away slightly aware of how contradictory his actions were. A chasseur that invites predators in. A Belmont that doesn't kill vampires. He couldn't fight the tug of a smile thinking of what his father would say if he saw him. It felt strange to think about a man he barely knew after all this time. It wasn't like he dwelled on the past a lot nor did he think about his future. Trevor lived from day to day. There was no use over thinking things when nothing was set and stone. His mother had taught him that as she surrounded herself with art and music to distract from the bruises that lingered on her arms and hands.</p><p>Inside the house, Trevor took a seat by the fireplace. Hector took a seat across from him and the wolf laid by Trevor's feet. It looked between the men as if gesturing for explanation of the situation.</p><p>"Have you seen Adrian?" Trevor asked realizing the dhampir hadn't made an appearance (and boy did he love to make himself known). Hector looked at him puzzled.</p><p>"You mean the Prince?"</p><p>"I don't actually know if he is a prince if his father is a count."</p><p>"He's a prince." It was stated as an absolute fact.</p><p>"He is not my prince." Trevor grumbled feeling a slight twinge towards any ruling bureaucrats and government figures. Hector cocked his head as if holding something back. Instead he just cracked an easy smile nodding.</p><p>"I suppose he is not." He agreed.</p><p>"Why are you here?"</p><p>The wolf seemed to glare at Trevor for his lack of tact. In Trevor's defense, he really didn't grow up around a lot of people. He tried to be more... thoughtful. The question only led to them sitting in silence listening to the odd sounds of the other residences coming to life. There were no birds due to the deep winter that had set in. The fireplace smelled of hickory. A bittersweet smell that filled the morning air. Hector stared down at his hands clasping them together. His eyebrows were furrowed, and he seemed deep in thought.</p><p>Trevor tapped his knee trying to ease the atmosphere. Sypha was better at this than him. She would easily be able to think of a more subtle way to get information and connect to the person. It was one of her many gifts- empathy and general compassion. The actor looked down at the wolf who seemed transfixed on Hector's body language. It seemed the creature noticed something that he didn't. He wasn't surprised; Trevor wasn't exactly a budding intellect. He wasn't dumb either. At times, he was just a bit slower to the punch than most. Call it feign stupidity or lack thereof of a continuing education, he just never needed to be the brightest person to get the job done. Both hunting and acting required skill or talent or maybe just instinct.</p><p>"Uh, well, uh, Adrian was here. I'm sure we can discuss this further when he comes back."</p><p>Hector looks up at him with a glazed face. The kind of face that is devoid of any real comprehension of what is going on. Trevor has seen this face in that of the dead. He noticed the wolf standing up. It plopped its giant head into his lap nipping lightly at his fingers. A pink tongue lulled at them. It was almost comforting like squeezing a hand. The actor pushed that thought back realizing an animal couldn't possibly understand the situation. Instead, Trevor realized it might just be hungry.</p><p>"Have you eaten?" The question was for the wolf, but Hector said he hadn't.</p><p>For the most part, getting Hector to eat wasn't difficult. Trevor pulled out extra clothes for the man while he scarfed down some sweetened oatmeal and tea. It wasn't anything fancy, but the kid seemed to enjoy it smiling with each bite. The wolf had run off after Trevor had given him some dried deer meet and water. It paced after that threatening to knock into something eventually, so Trevor shooed it out.</p><p>"Here," he passed Hector a long sleeve shirt and some old trousers that should fit. The man nodded a thank you never stopping to eat. The actor leaned against the counter holding a hot cup of black coffee in his hands. The warm comforting in between the long sips.</p><p>"You mentioned Adrian before," Hector spoke before eating another spoonful of oatmeal. Trevor nodded explaining how bad off Hector was yesterday. The man nodded as if not quite believing what he was hearing.</p><p>"He hasn't practiced medicine since his mother died. Ms. Tepes always wanted him to take over when she grew too old. It was their love for science that really drove the relationship." Hector explained.</p><p>Trevor chuckled, "I can't imagine that git doing anything so laboring."</p><p>"You'd be surprised. Lenore told me he's always been a bit stuffy. His arrogance is overwhelming at times, but he can be humbled. It wasn't easy for him to fit in especially being the only child of the Count. People and vampires tended to avoid him. I'm sure it was only."</p><p>Trevor nodded in agreement. It wasn't like he didn't know about loneliness. He had been on his own for years now.</p><p>"A stranger in his own home then?" Trevor suggested earning him a nod.</p><p>That kind of seclusion could mess with a child. It made them bitter and unruly. Not that Adrian was either of those. He was reserved and quiet; timid at times it seemed when anyone remotely got close to him. He clung to Sypha's jewel like personality as if it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The dhampir seemed committed to wiggling his way into Trevor's presence as well.</p><p>"It's good for him," Hector blew the steam away from his tea, "that he has you."</p><p>"And Sypha."</p><p>Hector chuckled.</p><p>"Yes, but she isn't like him."</p><p>Trevor was about to object when Hector continued speaking.</p><p>"Lenore knew me. Knew my loneliness. I hated people. I understood animals. I was fascinated with them. I became a veterinarian just for the sake of being around animals all the time," he shook his head, "but then one day I did something. I just... I got so mad at a man who beat his dog. He kicked it and forced it to fight his dirty battles and for what!" He spat heaving a bit.</p><p>Trevor moved forward to help him up from the chair. As the younger man leaned onto the actor, he continued to speak.</p><p>"I did it," he whispered, "I did him in and took the dog and fled. I found the troupe and just decided to lay low. One day I suppose we all must atone for our crimes, but I never thought it would be like this. The very thing I loved taken from me so viciously. I wonder if that's what the dog felt like. It served his master so willingly even in death. I was unable to keep its trust and it eventually ran off. I thought it ungrateful, but maybe it was just in pain. A dog, who is loyal to one man, shall do whatever it takes to feel its love. Have you ever been so foolishly in love?"</p><p>Trevor shakes his head and Hector sighs. He plops down into the same seat by the fireplace staring into the void of his thoughts. The actor takes his seat across from him waiting.</p><p>"I loved her; you know. I truly did believe she loved me. I- I was- I was infatuated by her. Smart, cunning, and slightly manipulative. She trained me as the man trained the dog: this false belief that I, a mere mortal, could humble her was so delusional even in death. I ached for her. I still do. It wasn't as if her kindness was sincere; I was merely a pawn in a larger game. Her death was..." he trails off as if unable to speak.</p><p>"Who did this to you?" Trevor asks trying to change the subject.</p><p>"Honestly, I don't know. There are too many games being played at once that the pawns are scrambling to keep up."</p><p>"What do you mean by games?" The voice comes from behind Trevor who nearly jumps placing a hand on his knife. Adrian ignores him coming from behind his chair and taking a seat beside him.</p><p>"Where the heck did you come from?" He asks in shock.</p><p>Adrian side eyes him dismissing this question with a wave of his hand. The dhampir's attention is on Hector.</p><p>"What so you mean by games?" He repeats in the same monotone voice.</p><p>"Lenore didn't say much, but she knew that the war council had been called to order only," he looks nervously between the two men before biting his lip.</p><p>"Tell us Hector." Adrian coaxes.</p><p>"Your father didn't know."</p><p>Adrian runs a hand through his golden hair thinking over his statement. Trevor begins asking about Hector's whereabouts the last few days.</p><p>"I was due to the theatre last week. I don't remember which day for an evening show shift. I was on my way too when I was attached," he rubs the back of his neck grimacing at the memory, "I only remember they had accents. It wasn't townspeople. They gagged me and tied me up. I was blindfolded as they asked me questions or just generally tortured me."</p><p>"Anything else?" Trevor pressed. "Do you remember where you were specifically that night. Any details you could make out will help us."</p><p>"You mentioned accents," Adrian pipes in, "What kind?"</p><p>Hector explains how he didn't know the accents. They were thick. One specifically stood to him as rather authoritative and brash. Adrian nods as if already knowing who he is describing. Trevor followed the details loosely trying to keep up.</p><p>"It was rather loud if I'm honest. I could always hear muffled voices. Sometimes yelling or screaming. Oh! Glass. I could always hear these clinks of glass. It smelled heavily of smoke. I was in the dark most of the time, but it must have been a basement."</p><p>"Cellar." Trevor corrects. Adrian and Hector give him a quizzical look waiting for him to explain.</p><p>"You had to be in a cellar. Tell me was there a slight echo?"</p><p>Hector nods.</p><p>"I assume you know the sound of floorboards creaking?"</p><p>Another nod.</p><p>"Heavy footsteps that often paused for a moment before reaching where you were held?"</p><p>Hector's mouth hangs open as he exclaims, "how did you know?"</p><p>Trevor shakes his head lightly remembering the many times his father had put him in their family cellar as punishment. On days where his father had company over, he would listen to their footsteps pounding above his head. He knew the door was a hollow area where the sound softened before the stairs which made all kinds of sounds under pressure. The boy also knew most cellars were practically soundproof during parties or larger gatherings.</p><p>"Call it a hunch. I think I know where they took you." Trevor looks over at Adrian whose eyes seemed to dim.</p><p>He looked rather crestfallen.</p><p>"Do you know who took Hector?" Trevor asks him. Adrian, for his part, only nods.</p><p>"Well, then let's go." Trevor stands up and begins gathering what he needs. Hector whitens a sickly shade paler than the actor thought possible. Adrian jumps up in protest.</p><p>"Belmont, this isn't some game. The vampire who took him is notoriously unstable and at times, worse than my own father."</p><p>Trevor nods having heard so many warnings like this before. Adrian grasp his shoulders and shake him lightly.</p><p>"Listen to me Trevor," the dhampir growls, "he isn't one to take lightly or mess with. We still don't even know what he wants."</p><p>"He said he wanted to hurt the Tepes for all they've done." Hector squeaks. Both of their attention turns to the younger man and they stare at him.</p><p>"What do you mean?" Adrian hisses revealing his teeth. Hector recoils leaning further into the chair.</p><p>"He- he just-" he stutters over his words so bad that he starts shaking. Trevor shrugs Adrian off him, going to Hector's aid. He places a hand on the young man's forehead.</p><p>"His fever as spiked. Seems like he got too worked up." Trevor wants to add, 'No thanks to you'.</p><p>Adrian nods. He works on stabilizing Hector who's completely passed out. His breathing is heavy and the stench of sickness nauseated Trevor. The actor prompts to sitting outside than in the house that feels a bit too warm and stuffy. No more than an hour later, the front door open. Adrian leans against the railing post staring out at the few individuals stalk around like the living dead.</p><p>"He's stable." The dhampir states. The undercurrent screams apology. Trevor nods feeling the tension in his stomach loosen a bit.</p><p>"We should investigate it though."</p><p>Trevor looks up to find Adrian's eyes closed. For all their bickering and apparent dislike for each other, he can't deny he trusts this creature more than most men he knows. Adrian, in an essence, is beautiful even by vampire standards. His skin isn't a deathly pale. It glows even in the lack of sunlight. His hair falls naturally straight without so much as a thought to comb it. In these hushed moments, Trevor truly wonders should such a person exist. Not in a spiteful way, but someone so fluent in essence doesn't seem like the type of person made for this world. Trevor can imagine that young, arrogant child stomping around sucking a silver spoon. He could imagine those long eyelashes masking such seeing golden eyes that took in more than any child should. Those long, golden locks being tucked behind his ear as he firmly established his well given birthright though he detested it so. A man and a vampire who walks in both darkness yet resembles such like. This creature who exists only to be the very contradiction of his vain existence.</p><p>It seems like a cruel joke to place on a child. Trevor can see the bruiting teenager in the dhampir beside him; he never truly grew up to know anything other than his world of lavish and love and light. In the darkest corners of his mind, Trevor knows that Adrian is much more than he reveals, but he is also no more lost than that of a child casted out too early by society. It isn't as though Sypha doesn't tease him about his own faults at times. He was surely no better than the dhampir beside him, yet he didn't dwell in self-pity. He felt it as any other man did, but it didn't consume him. That rage and fire didn't eat at his soul. He knew anger, pain, and rage. It wasn't like Trevor hadn't grown up in the silver spooned hills of the Belmont mansion without a care in the world. Except, he had to learn to survive in order to live like that. The Belmonts had never afforded him the comfort of relying on servants or money. His father seemed to detest his riches so much he'd rather die at the hands of his enemy than be buried in gold.</p><p>So, no, Trevor was not a spoiled child. He did not know love and have it taken away. He did not long for comfort or belonging. People came to him and they left when he could no longer offer his services. His life was filled with running. Whether into danger or away from others, he had never stopped to truly figure out where he was headed. Maybe it was an early grave he secretly longed for. The temptation to be lifted of the burden of his family seemed nice though their deaths would be in vain. He was, after all, the last of his kind. Like Adrian, he fit in no better. A boy raised to be a man before he ever could experience being a child.</p><p>He knew his place was to find a wife and continue the legacy. Yet, the rules had changed. Under no obligation was Trevor held accountable to do as the implied circumstances called for. His mother could not chide him to hang out with one of the noble girls in order to establish a fiancé. He had no need to find a successor. Trevor simply was gifted the freedom from the curse of aristocracy. Belmont or not, he was able to rewrite what he believed the name to mean.</p><p>He was a man simply here to help people. It wasn't supposed to be honorable or self-sacrificing. He just couldn't stand innocent people being hurt or men with too much power using it to justify their means. After all, was it not the duty of a Belmont to fight the monsters that lay in the shadows waiting to attack? Who said that the vampires were the only monsters out there?</p><p>"We have to tell Sypha." Trevor says as he stands up. Adrian doesn't disagree with him.</p><p>"I will follow up with Hector's story." Alone, he adds as Trevor shoots him a dirty look.</p><p>The dhampir really ate at him sometimes. It was like he thought Trevor to be incompetent.</p><p>"We can help, you know. You don't have to do everything alone." He spoke as they walked into town. It was already getting dark. The sun's low light streaked the sky in lilacs and rich oranges that were rare to see on a winter's eve. Adrian doesn't respond. Trevor face falls in defeat.</p><p>The town is still buzzing with the gossip of why the Speakers are leaving. Some people thought a proper acting troupe did justice to the town while others believed in a nuisance. Amongst them, talk about the thefts and death begin to cause theories to arise. It is no different than what the troupe has theorized. In his haste to avoid being noticed, Trevor avoids the busier streets. It takes in a half an hour longer to reach the theatre. By that time, Adrian doesn't accompany him in. Instead, he suggests going to check out some promising leads in their case. Trevor waits until he is out of sight before rushing to find Sypha.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Act Seventeen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"He, what!" Sypha's expressive eyes widened further than humanly possible as the pair stood in the alley.</p><p>"Shhh! Look, he said he was going to follow up on a lead which means he knows who is behind Hector's kidnapping."</p><p>Without a doubt, this could lead them to figuring out who killed Lenore. Though there were so many more mysteries involving the thefts, Lisa Tepes' death, and who out a death threat on the Count's life, this seemed like the first real lead they've had in months. It came to a surprise when Sypha had suggested following Adrian into the Elite's den.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ahhhhh.... they're going to this bar/vampire club. It was hard to write this scene and I see like twelve year olds killing these adult scenes and stuff lol... what is my life, but anyway, probably just read and ignore this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"He, what!" Sypha's expressive eyes widened further than humanly possible as the pair stood in the alley.</p><p>"Shhh! Look, he said he was going to follow up on a lead which means he knows who is behind Hector's kidnapping."</p><p>Without a doubt, this could lead them to figuring out who killed Lenore. Though there were so many more mysteries involving the thefts, Lisa Tepes' death, and who out a death threat on the Count's life, this seemed like the first real lead they've had in months. It came to a surprise when Sypha had suggested following Adrian into the Elite's den.</p><p>Just beyond the city's limits, in the district dedicated to the vampires, the duo found themselves in the heart of enemy territory. The actor remembered the last time he had acted brashly- he blatantly following instinct and ignoring Adrian's warning had almost earned him two neck piercings.</p><p>"Just in case he needs us." She smiled with mock innocence as she led Trevor to the only real bar designated to the Elites.</p><p>Now, they stood, peeping around the corner to catch glimpses of patrons being led inside a rather dark looking building. On the outside, it didn't look like much (most of the buildings in town had this underwhelming lack of distinction). However, Elites, for all their glitz and glam, were rather private when it came to gathering in groups. People often forgot humans outnumbered vampires 10 to 1.</p><p>Since arriving to the alley just after sun-down, the night air was bone-chilling. Trevor blew out a deep sigh watching it turn to white smoke instantly. Sypa shivered against him. She rubbed her hands roughly against the sleeves of her outfit trying to keep warm. Trevor draped his cloak over her arms who silently thanked him her eyes. Forty-five minutes into their stake out and they still hadn't spotted Adrian.</p><p>"You think he's inside already?"</p><p>It was plausible considering the dhampir was headed here when he had dropped Trevor off. If they had missed him, then it was no way two mortals could get inside without an Elite escort, regardless of their status in the community.</p><p>"He would have needed to change." Trevor mentions realizing that Adrian didn't even have a shirt on when they walked into town. A place like this might require a classier palette than some golden tassels and a nice smile: The Elites were dressed to kill.</p><p>Somehow, it didn't prevent Trevor from worrying about their own attire. Would they even blend in with a crowd like this? The line outside the door was relatively shorter than he expected as he peered out to check for any signs of Adrian. The patrons seemed cladded in jewels, gold, and silver. Humans were with their Elites. Some were collared like dogs and others stood right behind the vampires, heads down in submission. It was rather sickening to see how lowly vampires thought of them as if humans were just walking meals.</p><p>A few voices arose from one of the backdoors behind him. Trevor didn't hesitate to act fighting the pangs of anger he felt. He turned towards Sypha, pushing her into the wall with her face facing him. Both of his hands were firmly placed above her head concealing their faces from the passersby who didn't look twice at them. With their bodies perfectly flushed against the building, Trevor quickly realized how close in proximity they were. Trevor felt his face heat up thankful it was dark so she couldn't see.</p><p>"Good idea." she whispered, "We don't want anyone to recognize us."</p><p>Sypha's own lack of sense of danger was just as ignorant as the dhampir's. He just knew that whatever business Adrian had here was not something the two of them should be involved with.  The situation wasn't a delicate one. He had explained this to the scholar at the theatre.</p><p>"So, he was kidnapped?" Sypha slowly repeats as if trying to grasp such a concept. It isn't the most outlandish action considering Hector's closeness with an Elite diplomat. Still, there is leverage there.</p><p>"Yeah, but I don't actually know why. I mean it's not like Lenore would have told him anything. Still, I don't see why after a month, the thefts began. Was it a way to rouse suspicion away from the murder?"</p><p>"That's possible, but what if the crimes are of their own separate agendas.</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>Sypha sits up straighter at this question.</p><p>"Think about this Belmont. Lenore's death was on the anniversary of the Count's wife. Remember where she landed?"</p><p>How could he forget. The imagine of her perfectly whole body that should have been mangled and dislocated is rather disturbing. It's nearly impossible to kill an Elite without a specialized weapon or their own kind doing the deed.</p><p>"She was already dead before she fell." He states.</p><p>"Exactly, but where did she land?"</p><p>He closed his eyes faintly remembering it was in the isle, just above the C- row seats. When he mentioned this, Sypha nodded in enthusiastically coaching him through.</p><p>"Why does that matter?"</p><p>"What is above the C-row?" She points out from the stage.</p><p>His gaze follows hers before the realization sinks in.</p><p>"She knew her murderers. She was the last one to see their faces," Sypha deadpans, "Imagine her surprise if she knew who it was."</p><p>Whether Sypha is referring to Lisa or Lenore, he cannot say, but he remembers the golden-haired woman that casted her grace with him. Had she really been a speculation of his mind or was someone running around being the "phantom" of a dead woman? Trevor doesn't question that it is a horrible fate. He understands more than anyone else what that felt like.</p><p>"Either way," she says, "there may be more than one game being played."</p><p>"Wait," he shakes his head in rememberance, "what about the thefts?"</p><p>"What about them?"</p><p>"Sypha that one Speaker was sent home for no reason. The stealing was obviously done to discredit the troupe."</p><p>"Yes, it was." She agrees. Trevor cocks his head to the side trying to figure out what she isn't tell him.</p><p>"I investigated the thefts with Adrian separately," she begins, "We both agreed this was smaller than his father. Of course, the thefts didn't do much good for the Tepes reputation if the most powerful Elite can't even protect his own assets, so why steal from Speakers?"</p><p>"No sane man would steal from the Count."</p><p>"No sane man would kill his wife either."</p><p>Trevor jumps at this revelation.</p><p>"You think it wasn't one of the towsnpeople?"</p><p>"I'm not sure I'd dismiss them, but clearly someone is playing multiple angles. I don't quite know which one we're involved in yet."</p><p>"Lisa Tepes was a doctor, no?"</p><p>"Yes, but you knew that." Sypha laughs.</p><p>"And so, did the leading figures of the town." Trevor continues. He clearly remembers his meeting with one of the higher ups. The man was practically insane about his beliefs of being a servant to humanity. He blamed the Elites for the conditions of Wallachia.</p><p>"You think the town's leader did this?"</p><p>Trevor can't say for sure. All he knows is that whatever happens tonight will either move them five spaces forward or two spaces back. That is the risk he's willing to take if it means beating the game once and for all.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Act Eighteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Trevor let his head drift down to catch her gaze again. It always amazed him how expressive her eyes were; they told all the stories he longed to hear yet revealed nothing but hardened truth. They stood like this for a moment staring into the other's eyes as lovers do. Trevor, for all his restraint, couldn't bring himself to separate their bodies. A brisk breeze swept through snatching her scent with it; she smelled faintly of brown sugar and spice.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Uh Trigger Warning and such.<br/>This was not easy to write and honestly, I didn't see this coming, but it fell into place. I am so sorry to whoever reads this and just stares at the screen for a good few minutes tryna figure out what happens after this.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Trevor let his head drift down to catch her gaze again. It always amazed him how expressive her eyes were; they told all the stories he longed to hear yet revealed nothing but hardened truth. They stood like this for a moment staring into the other's eyes as lovers do. Trevor, for all his restraint, couldn't bring himself to separate their bodies. A brisk breeze swept through snatching her scent with it; she smelled faintly of brown sugar and spice.</p><p>"Adrian!" Sypha calls out from over his arm. Her immaculate smile widens across her face.</p><p>Trevor looks up, horror stricken, to find the rather well dressed dhampir looking at them with an accusatory expression on his face written on his face. Trevor realizes how the situation looks before he practically jumps away from Sypha; with her gave adverted, she can't possibly make out how red his face is The Prince walks further into the alley. Aureate eyes look away as Adrian greets them gingerly. Sypha greets him back with gusto pulling him into a hug: not a hint of embarrassment is written on her face causing a rift in the thick atmosphere surrounding them.</p><p>"We have come to join you." She announces as she pulls away from him. Her small arm locks around his transforming herself into arm candy. Adrian, flustered by her abruptness, tries to shake her off. Sypha hits his playfully before mentioning how they should get going if they want to find good seats</p><p>"No," he says calmy down to her, "I already spoke to Trevor about the dangers of doing this. It would only prove a distraction to have you bother there."</p><p>"How so?"</p><p>"I can't protect you both."</p><p>Trevor snorts at this reminding Adrian exactly who his family is.</p><p>"I'm more than aware of your family history Belmont. It is not something we must regularly discuss." He hisses. It appears the thought pains him to even mention. Before Trevor can even process what his reaction means, Sypha grabs a hold of Trevor. The duo becomes a trio as they arrange themselves so that Trevor falls into the middle. It is strange how natural this feels.</p><p>Looking to his right, Sypha is alert, yet energetic branded in rash youthfulness. It is her sharp, intellectual eyes that catches any man's gaze; the cyan blue hue is electric capturing your attention even before she speaks. Since neither of them own any formal wear, they borrowed costumes from the prop department. Sypha wore a simply navy-blue dress with long sleeves that come of the shoulder. It is both elegant, yet simple describing her perfectly. A diamond barrette shines in her hair holding back her growing bangs. The colors of her hair and the dress clash in a way it resembles the sun setting over the sea.</p><p>On the other hand, Adrian dubs his black petticoat that falls to his calves along with a richer suit that is nice shade of crème. It accents his lithe body type making his look more modern. It is the suit of a man who knows who he is. Maybe, he hasn't given Adrian the benefit of the doubt. His long, golden hair is neatly tucked behind his ear pulled into a ponytail. The dhampir looks sharp yet adumbrate. It accentuates his being perfectly.</p><p>Both individuals are on an opposite spectrum of Trevor who isn't as lavish in comparison. His borrowed suit just fits, if not a bit snug in the shoulders. It is a simple black suit. One he finds is suitable for tonight. He hasn't shaven or done anything remotely special to his hair except slick it back away from his face. As they walk towards the front door, the world seems to slow. Eyes fall on the trio without fail. It is paradoxical to think Trevor is one their gazes fall on. He is not attractive in the sense that he emanates prestige like Adrian or was as polished as Sypha. He is rather course in appearance. His muscular physique stood out easily amongst any crowd. He walks with purpose, not refinement. It is uncanny of him to fit in a lavish society.</p><p>"They're staring." Trevor whispers to his counterparts realizing their plan to blend in is failing.</p><p>"Yes, they are." Sypha says as she glances up at him. Her eyes sparkle in the moonlight like the very dimaonds upon her head. He can't help but brush a piece of her hair out of her face. His finger stops shorty upon her cheek. He savors the way her face melts with contentment closing those beautiful eyes for a moment. He can feel Adrian's arm stiffen over his. It is enough to draw his attention away from her. He looks at the dhampir who turns away, but not before Trevor catches the growing color spreading across his cheeks. The actor assumes it's due to nerves or his reputation since he is being seen with humans.</p><p>"Don't worry," he directs his voice to the dhampir, "We know how to act in a crowd."</p><p>This earns him a stifled laugh as they take their place at the front of the line. Adrian shows a rather ugly beast- it had no real face and one missing wing, but the stub still twitched slightly- his family crest. The guard bowed its head keeping its eyes adverted from them as the trio stepped through the door.</p><p>The air was thick with perfume and alcohol. Trevor felt his body heat up trying to swallow back the bile that rose in the back of his throat. Alcohol did nothing good for. He had once drunk so much; his body lost its tolerance for it completely.</p><p>"Alcohol poisoning," the Elder spoke sadly, "This addiction will one day kill you, yet you continue to indulge her."</p><p>His relationship with it was no different than that of his mother. It was comforting, made him feel warm, and distracted him long enough to believe he was truly happy: maybe, even loved. A truly pathetic way to waste one's life chasing the false comforts of golden liquid to feel the void of silver darkness. He just traded one tragedy for another finding worser ways to cope with his existence. Alcohol just happened to be cheap and available. His father hadn't been much of a drinker now that Trevor thought about it. The old man seemed resolute with a cigar though. His clothes reeked of the sugary aroma that upon a second whiff burned the nostrils. Trevor closes his eyes avoiding any thoughts of alcohol. He had been sober for way too long now to give in. If he was to have one last drink, it wouldn't be in a place like this.</p><p>Adrian sat them furthest away from the bar near an empty table allowing them to see the room. With their backs against the wall (quite literally), the trio had a good view of the bar. The place was picturesque in its own aesthetic. It wasn't somewhere Trevor thought Elites would come too. The lighting was crepuscular hitting creating a rather romantic setting. The cherry wood floors were hidden under satin red carpets resembling blood. It hurts Trevor's eyes. He turned his attention towards the small stage where a vampire sang. Her voice was airy and light contradicting her full body. Booths outlined the perimeter of the place while smaller, individual tables were scattered about in no real array. The cluster of seats were filled with a cluster of bodies as Elites dined hidden from the censorious glares they earn elsewhere. The only humans that were here were either sitting with vampires or serving them.</p><p>Trevor tried not to stare as he watched a man become a pliable chew toy in the booth across from their table. Adrian had informed them not to speak to any other Elites.</p><p>"It is seen as a sign of disrespect and therefor, you will not engage if anyone is to come up to me." Trevor, who bore a lour expression was met with an equally as menacing glare. Adrian informed the chasseur if he could not comply then he should leave then and there. Trevor agreed to comply even if it went against everything, he believed in. Sypha found no qualms with submitting to the society of the Elites. She bowed her head politely or avoided the gaze of other vampires who greedily eyed her neck and shoulders with lustful appreciation.</p><p>"No real difference between men and vampires, I see." She giggled when she caught Trevor's eyes wandering over her shoulders as well. Of course, it was for an entirely different reason, but she laughed at his futile dispute against her presumptions.</p><p>"You're different." She hummed in his ear. It made his blood boil when she was this close. Even now, Sypha made it a show to sit as close as the chairs would allow them. She leaned into his space dismissing all boundaries of personal space. Trevor pretended not to notice when Adrian leaned in further too matching her.</p><p>The pair spoke in hushed secrecy after Adrian had reminded them, yet again, after Sypha's comment, that Elites had very well informed hearing, so conversation beyond the checkpoint was to be 'delicate' as they stepped into the foyer to be patted down. Trevor was thankful his whip wasn't considered a 'real' weapon and he could carry it in the bar clear of view, of course.</p><p>"Our senses are far sharper than you realize." He continued when they entered another door, before turning right and climbing up the stairs into a narrow hallway. Sypha had asked how they would communicate then, but Adrian didn't have answer.</p><p>Now, Trevor sat in between the two listening to the semantics of a language that bore almost no recognition with the Latin he was taught as a child.</p><p>"Do you know Latin Hunter?" Alucard had once asked him. It was funny because since that encounter he had been brushing up on some phrases excited to help the man with his tragedy. It made him feel good to be of use, not that it was what he craved. More so, it helped sort out his own past putting the events into perspective. Whether Adrian intended to write a play or fulfill his legacy had yet to be determined. For now, the dhampir seemed content to figure out how to avoid a bigger crisis.</p><p>Sypha's small hand clasped his to draw his attention into the conversation. Trevor tried to focus on what they were saying. It took too much effort for them to translate their conversation. Latin wasn't the first language to the people of Wallachia, so few would even understand them. Trevor, at one time, had begun learning it himself, but all his educational training was stunted. He was fortunate enough to be able to read.</p><p>He caught a few phrases like 'are you ready to eat' or 'this place is highly specific to catering certain elites.' Ok, that last phrase wasn't easy to decipher. He guessed most of their conversation. Instead, Trevor stationed himself to watch their surroundings. It was clear to anyone who walked by their table that Adrian and Sypha were a match made well. They spoke earnestly and rapidly with as much passion as the vampire at the bar slamming his cup down demanding another drink.</p><p>'Geez, he was a big one,' Trevor thought to himself.</p><p>The vampire was clearly an Elite judging the heavy amour with golden trims he wore though the fashion choice was flawed since it left his upper chest and shoulders partially exposed. The most striking feature was his red hair and pointy ears. It seemed some of the eldest of the Elites had this trait. The vampire surrounded himself with muscular, lower class vampires and women. It made Trevor sick to look at especially when he realized the man wasn't drinking alcohol.</p><p>Adrian seemed to follow Trevor's gaze instantly turning away and instructing the actor to do the same.</p><p>"Godbrand." He spoke inhumanely low.</p><p>Godbrand.</p><p>Trevor knew his type just from across the room. Loud, big-mouthed and ready to give orders, yet so easy to submit to someone more powerful. He didn't look like the type to have such an elaborate scheme at hand. This meant he was just another pawn. Torture and killing seemed like a natural for his type, so it made sense. Hector had mentioned an accent. Most Elites had one since they weren't true natives to Wallachia.</p><p>"It's him, isn't it?" Trevor doesn't even know why he asks.</p><p>A fire rages in the cool actor that eats at him slowly. The same fire at nipped at his flesh so many years ago. It had been so many months of running around like chickens with their heads cut off to finally lead them to make a move. Unfortunately, before Trevor can do anything cocksure, the door to the lucrative bar slams open.</p><p>The young man appears before then clad in nothing but worn brown pants and a loose-fitting shirt that slides off the shoulders. He looks as bad as he did the first day he arrived at the house. The man's points an accusing finger at the Elite catching him off guard. The whole room stares slightly taken back by the interruption.</p><p>"You knew!" He screams standing there.</p><p>Godbrand recovers from his initial shock before laughing it off turning his attention back to his lackeys. Hector stands there with his fist bawled to his sides looking like a toddler fighting back tears. It was his voice that gained Trevor's undivided attention as he rises from his seat. Neither Adrian nor Sypha can stop his as the actor maneuvering himself toward the man without second thought.</p><p>Hector stood before the bar heat looking as if he might just drop dead. The man's feet were bare tracking blood as he stumbled over empty seats to lean against a table. One of his eyes were shut and his white hair stuck to his sweat stained forehead. Trevor ignored his name being called as he moved faster. Sypha and Adrian could handle this situation easily, but Hector would earn himself another death warrant if Trevor didn't do something.</p><p>"You knew!" He repeats again. His breath his ragged as he pushes himself up trying to stare down the Elite who doesn't move from the bar. Trevor is almost to Hector when he notices the young man has gone deadly still. His face is consorted in the same manner as if drowning in hatred. It is a face that breeds no room for consequences as his hands reaches into the waistband of his pants.</p><p>Instincts calculate all the next moments as the barrel of a gun is aimed at Godbrand. Hector speaks slowly with as much pain and hunger as the beggars on the street. That is the curse of a boy living in the world of men- he is of no common sense. Trevor can see how he was forced to grow up in a sheltered household. The kid was practically withering in self-pity and regret. Still, his loyalties remained unaltered even after he had been stripped of his pride. The dog who knew both pain and pleasure greedily doing whatever it took to prove his worth: to gain his master's love. The inner turmoil revealed itself on Hector's face. He is following his orders as a dog, but it seems he has a knew master.</p><p>"Like the dog who waits for his master to arrive on the train that never comes, like the one who keeps a vigil at her master's grave until she too can cross the bridge, some people and their pets are woven together by threads of life and they cannot, and will not, for long be separated."</p><p>Trevor can hear his father's voice as he reaches out to stop him, but it's too late. The gun goes off with an infamous 'bang'!</p><p>The smell of heated gunpowder and blood become revolting as Trevor slams his body into Hector's. They fall over a table; glass shatters around them. The gun slips into a corner just out of Hector's reach. Chaos ensues shortly after as the human patrons flood the doors trying to escape. For what it is worth, Hector is stronger than he looks. His fist meets Trevor's jaw with a crack. The howl of pain that escapes the younger man's lips is enough time for Trevor to head butt him in the nose knocking Hector out instantly.</p><p>"Should have mentioned my jaw has been broken once before." He spits out. Trevor rubs his jaw pushing it back into place before rising to his feet. Alcohol stains his white shirt, and the suit jacket is slightly wrinkled. This was definitely coming out of his paycheck.</p><p>"Ah, the prodigal son returns, eh?" Godbrand speaks as he takes another sip of his cup. Trevor turns to find Adrian standing in front of the Elite blocking his view of their faces. His body posture and gesture suggest he is separating the vampire from them. Sypha rushes over to Trevor accessing his face. He pushes her away trying to focus on the two most powerful creatures in the room.</p><p>"What have you done?' Adrian demands.</p><p>The older vampire laughs disregarding him. Instead, he looks over at the duo who have taken it upon themselves to get out weapons. Trevor holds his whip in hand waiting for another fight to break out while Sypha grasps a sword.</p><p>"Ain't that a cute sight," he sneers, "Looks like you train ya pets well lassies." His smile is anything but warm. It is cold and predatorial. Adrian shakes violently losing al control of his composure.</p><p>"I do say," the vampire continues, "All this ruckus over a human. I mean really Lenore had it coming. She knows better than anyone what happens when vampires and humans even speak to each other."</p><p>"Is that so?" Adrian's voice cuts too deep to sound human anymore.</p><p>"Well I mean I'm no saint, but even I wouldn't kill an innocent woman." He gestures to the seat across from him. The bartender brings over another cup filling it the brim with a thick red liquid. Adrian shakes his head.</p><p>"I don't drink."</p><p>"You mean you don't indulge."</p><p>Godbrand looks over at both Trevor and Sypha taking them in.</p><p>"I bet I can see why though."</p><p>"Enough!"</p><p>Adrian draws his sword. The point is aimed directly at the Elite's heart.</p><p>"I say your temper is no better than your father's. What is it that makes you two so lovesick over these humans?"</p><p>Lovesick?</p><p>Trevor glances down at Sypha who looks up at him equally confused. Adrian hisses baring his teeth.</p><p>"You have a few seconds to answer me or I will kill you!"</p><p>"Again, with the threats," Godbrand moves he sword to the side. His feigns a yawn in boredom, "You always did think you were better than everyone. I mean really who ever heard of a 'sleeping soldier' and why the heck would he need help from two idiots clad in tights? If he's so all powerful, then he can surely defeat his enemies."</p><p>Godbrand frowns before swirling his cup.</p><p>"Did you kill her?"</p><p>"If I did, do you think I'd still be alive? That crazy-"</p><p>"Lenore!"</p><p>Hector screams out from the floor cutting the conversation short. Adrian turns his head toward the commotion. The distraction is enough for Godbrand to pull his sword forward. With the sudden loss of balance, the older Elite takes advantage of this. He's got a fistful of golden hair in his hand as he slams Adrian's face flat into the bar. He leans over his ear.</p><p>"Still playing mama's little hero, eh lassie?"</p><p>Adrian swipes the him struggling to free himself; Godbrand laughs heartily enjoying himself.</p><p>"Let him go!" Sypha commands as she holds her sword up. Trevor cracks his whip at the Elite's feet. The sound is electrifying gaining the older vampire's attention.</p><p>Godbrand smashes Adrian's head against the counter. A bone cracking sound emits from the impact. Trevor lashes his whip at the vampire whograbs it mid-air.</p><p>"Didn't ya say to drop him?" The ELite pulls and Trevor flies right over the counter into the glass cups. The whole cabinet falls on top of him. Glass turns to needles piercing his flesh as he howls in pain. He squints his eyes to see Sypha swiping her sword.</p><p>"I see your little rag-a- team has tricks." Godbrand snidest comment doesn't go unrevoked before yanking Adrian up again. The dhampir catches Trevor's eyes before pulling a night from thin air. He raises it before hissing out something in another language. The knife embeds itself into Godbrand's hands. The vampire throws Adrian back against the counter. Yanking the knife out of his hand, the older vampire bares his teeth. He jams the knife right into Adrian's Adam apple where it sits comfortably until Godbrand decides to kill him.</p><p>"Such a pretty face just like his, mother. I bet she was sight though. Funny how easily the game can be played form so many angles," he looks from Sypha to Trevor, "I bet Lenore would agree. You can't have peace without a little war."</p><p>In the seconds that past, Godbrand's eyes widen as another gunshot rings through the air. His large body hits the floor causing the ground to shake slightly. Trevor loses sight of everything from the floor on the other side of the counter. He begins to make his way-out from under the shelf. Sypha leans over the counter reaching out to give him a hand. He grasps it for dear life as he forces his body to stand.</p><p>Adrian recovers faster than him as he straightens his posture coming to his full height. The dhampir moves without hesitation until he stands over the other vampire. As Godbrand tries to sit up, Adrian pushes him back down. He presses his hand into the shoulder forcing the bullet deeper into the tissue and muscle. Godbrand's face contorts as his eyes begin roll back into his skull. Trevor limps over to Adrian stunned by how much pain his body could withstand. Adrian doesn't look at him as he kneels down. He pulls Godbrand to his face staring the other Elite down.</p><p>Trevor moves to get a better view of the older vampire. His eyes darken as he holds the whip loosely to his side.</p><p>"What are you playing at boy," The Elite wheezes, "Like a bullet can kill me."</p><p>"Yes, normal bullets anyway." Trevor nods in agreement. He knows the only bullets that can pierce vampire flesh were the specialty kind he kept under his bed in a toolbox.</p><p>Godbrand stares up at him. He is in utter disbelief as he begins coughing. Bright copper blood erupts from his mouth as plentiful as his words. Hot and sticky, the Elite struggles to breath as he screams out in fear.</p><p>"It wasn't even me. She knew about it. She made the deal. It was her idea!" The Elite spits out begins to panic at the sight of his own blood. How many people had he killed? How could such a man who brags about death be afraid of it? Trevor leaned forward asking who. Godbrand shook his head screaming widely as his body shook.</p><p>For all his talk, the Elite was no more different than the men he deemed inferior. Trevor looked over his shoulder to find Adrian sputtering out coughs as Sypha helped him to his feet. A wave of release ran over him knowing they were still alive. Considering that everyone fled the bar but them, the commotion had been contained to just the four of them. It was a good day when no civilians got hurt. However, Godbrand was dead. Trevor knew by the type of armor the elite war that he was a high-ranking officer. He may well possibly be a general. Regardless, Adrian knew him rather personally suggested this vampire belonged on the Count's war council. What was the price for killing an Elite vampire again? He sighed wiping the blood away that dripped down the side of his face. Death was possibly the only punishment suitable for such a crime.</p><p>The cock of a gun causes Trevor to instantly freeze. In the few minutes of chaos, he regrettably didn't register who fired the bullet. As he turns around slowly, Hector stands where he last left him unconscious. His nose is crooked suggesting Trevor may have broken it. Adrian spoke up first, sound sincere.</p><p>"Hector, please put the gun down."</p><p>Trevor snapped his eyes to where he had the left the man. Hector eyes are wide and dark as they fixate on the spot where Godbrand's dead body lays.</p><p>"He killed her. He did!" He screamed.</p><p>"No, he didn't." Adrian says calmly. He leans on Sypha more heavily than he should have needed to. Hector shook his head so vigorously, his long locks moved with him.</p><p>"No, he said he did."</p><p>"To rouse you Hector." Sypha added. Trevor switches tasks with her as he supports Adrian's body against his to keep the dhampir from falling over. His eyes remained glued to Hector's hand watching as he slightly tilts the gun down when she comes slower; her steps are slow and steady.</p><p>"Look at me," she said softly. She waited until Hector looked up and smiled, "he wasn't the one who did it, but that doesn't mean we won't figure out who did."</p><p>"I don't believe you!" Hector cried refusing to drop the gun to the floor. Trevor began to swift slightly trying to lean Adrian against the bar so he can make his way over to Sypha, but Hector is faster as he holds the barrel back up aimed straight past the Speaker.</p><p>He next target just so happens to be the only other Elite in the room.His anger projects itself onto Adrian.</p><p>"You knew don't you!" It wasn't a question. Adrian didn't speak as Hector repeated himself.</p><p>Trevor looked over at Adrian. His lips were pursed, and his eyes seemed sunken in. When was the last time he ate something? The smell of blood surrounded them. Adrian hunched over further growling against whatever instincts threaten to arise. Trevor doesn't know who he should be watching at this point. Between the gun, Sypha, the dhampir about to break down, he feels the world closing in on them. It doesn't help that in a matter of minutes this place will be swarmed with Elites and guardsmen. Trevor guessed they had about five minutes before Adrian lost his composure or they all went to jail.</p><p>"Hector, please," Sypha begged reaching out him. She placed a steady hand on his causing him to look away in shame.</p><p>"Just give me the gun. We can discuss everything in detail. I promise." She looks up at him speaking something inaudible.</p><p>Hector nodded as his grip began to loosen. Sypha smiled as they began to exchange. From the corner of his eyes, Trevor can just make out a blur of motion realizing Adrian has sprung from his side. He reaches out a hand trying to grasp the shadow that is the dhampir's jacket to hold him back, yet somehow the smooth cloth slips from his hand. Trevor falls to the floor this a thud looking up just in time to see her.</p><p>Sypha smiles down at him realizing there is no way out of this situation. He pushes himself to his fee though it is too slow. Trevor is too clumsy tripping over chairs and broken bottles. All he can make out her lips moving. She's talking to him. He knows it. Sypha is reminding him to read over his lines. She is laughing at his horrible attempt to tell a joke. She is leaning into his shoulders as she throws her legs over the stage where they hang: she reminds him to eat lunch with Mrs. Djuvara. Sypha is watching him during private voice lessons as she drifts off to the sound of him reciting the scale.</p><p>She is just there, smiling at him as her baby blue eyes dance between mischief and glee. He can just make out her words that melt away into the sounds of a gun going off. Trevor throws himself into the chaos as his he feels a sharp pain shoot through his foot. He falls to the floor against feeling shards of glass imbed themselves into his skin. He ignores this pain as he crawls just in time to catch her body fall into his arms.</p><p>Trevor never did get to tell her how beautiful she looked tonight.</p>
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<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Act Nineteen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It only took ten seconds for the bullet to drop to the ground. It took eight seconds for Hector to drop the gun. It took seven seconds for Trevor to catch Sypha as she fell. It took six seconds for Adrian to fling Hector into the floor strangling him. Five seconds for the dhampir to sink his teeth into the man. Four seconds were spent listening to labored breaths that rivaled that of fractured animalistic screams. It took three seconds for Trevor to start rocking biting back the urge to vomit. In two seconds, his clothes were stained in blood- he didn't know who it belonged too at this point. In one, Trevor realized how fowl the smell of iron was more sickening than anything he had ever encountered. His body rocked slowly as he replayed those ten seconds in his head again and again.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Be Triggered!!!<br/>This was hard... I never saw this coming and I wrote it and it was hard.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It only took ten seconds for the bullet to drop to the ground. It took eight seconds for Hector to drop the gun. It took seven seconds for Trevor to catch Sypha as she fell. It took six seconds for Adrian to fling Hector into the floor strangling him. Five seconds for the dhampir to sink his teeth into the man. Four seconds were spent listening to labored breaths that rivaled that of fractured animalistic screams. It took three seconds for Trevor to start rocking biting back the urge to vomit. In two seconds, his clothes were stained in blood- he didn't know who it belonged too at this point. In one, Trevor realized how fowl the smell of iron was more sickening than anything he had ever encountered. His body rocked slowly as he replayed those ten seconds in his head again and again. </p><p>Trevor didn't scream or cry. His throat seemed to swell making it harder to breathe. It was hard to do anything at this point except sit there. His hand fell over her face gently closing her eyes. It scared him to keep them opening as they reflected his appearance. Never had he ever felt like he deserved to die, but she didn't either. If anyone was to leave, it should have been him.</p><p>The young man didn't even twitch. His body was strangely contorted in a way that reminded Trevor of the first night he found the man at his door.</p><p>When Adrian turned towards him, the dhampir began to retch. It was so unbecoming of the arrogant Elite, Trevor almost laughed. His arms grew heavier as the warmth of her body began to cool. Trevor pulled her closer resting his forehead against hers. He closed his eyes feeling exhaustion set in.</p><p>"The authorities will be here soon." Adrian announces pulling at his arm. Trevor doesn't move. Sleep pulls at his eyelids as he succumbs to closest death a living man shall ever know: sleep. </p><p> </p><p>'We know the stories, but sometimes it's hard to separate fact from truth'.</p><p>That had been her favorite quote to recite. Truer words could not have been spoken, especially by a speaker. Trevor stared up at the starless night allowing his body to be swept away by whatever forces deemed him worthy of care. He felt nothing. The brewing numbness had settled so deeply into his bones nothing seemed to matter. It should have scared him. Yet, he held back a stifled laugh when the authorities arrived finding the great 'Trevor Belmont' holding onto her dead corpse as if it is the only thing tethering him to this earth.</p><p>They ask him questions of course. The generic ones that come out as one answer replies. He can't seem to think of anything to really say.  Trevor fights back the healers who try to take her away from him. He knows they're just doing their job; it is protocol, but he doesn't want to be rational. The actor doesn't want to admit she's gone. That last flicker of the burning flame that ate him up for so long blows itself out leaving him restless. He tells the people that she's still warm. Maybe they can bring her back to life.</p><p>The healers tell him she is gone. The bullet sits in her chest right beside her heart. It is a twisted way to end the day. A cruel prank that Trevor expects everyone around him to jump up and say 'Gotcha'. No one does. He watches as they carry Hector's body out first. There isn't much left to him. Adrian really did the poor kid in. The sight of his pale skin is almost too much for Trevor until he sees the sight of his neck. There is a large whole where his jugular vein should be. The neck itself hangs loosely causing the head to lean dangerously low at a strange angle. </p><p>Trevor loses his stomach as he leans over the bushes. Coming up for a breath, he glances over his shoulder. Sypha looks no different from this angle. Her face was paler than it should be- there was no light to it at all. Trevor begins to walk back towards her when a group of people beat him to it. The Speakers surround her as one falls to the ground. The Elder looks over her body with a distraught expression trying to find a way to touch her. A strangled sob escaped his lips when he examines her. The old man's hands couldn't even grasp his grandchild. He looks up as if searching for someone, but Trevor can't bring himself to be seen. It is too much. The actor watches from afar as one of the other Speakers aid the man in standing up. It is the first time Trevor has ever seen the wily Elder look so old.</p><p>Trevor can't bring himself look at the old man anymore or talk to anyone about the events of tonight. It seems like the world is moving faster than it should. He was supposed to protect Sypha. That was his job originally as a security guard. How could he have let this happen. Trevor knows the old man won't blame which almost makes it worse. The actor searches the scene for Adrian who stands away from it all. Trevor reluctantly walks over to him before clasping his shoulder. The younger dhampir looks as he expected him too. Dried blood stains the edges of his golden hair which has fallen out of its clasps. It blows freely in the wind surrounding them.</p><p>His golden eyes are nothing more than a dull copper. Trevor realizes this is the first time he probably has seen a dead body. It isn't something that should be normalized, but to them it is second nature to lose people. </p><p>"I'm sorry." He mumbles to no one in particular. His face is smothered in blood. His lips are a rich crimson carefully concealing his fangs.  His suit is painted in a creamy copper than blends too well with the oily red substance. Adrian looks so wild and lost. It takes Trevor a moment to realize this was the same dhampir that conventionally demanded his attention or took charge of the room. It was the same dhampir that would risk his life to save people who would probably spit on his name tomorrow. It was the same person Trevor grew to call a friend, maybe more it seemed now that they were stuck together. He didn't too much into it though because his heart ached deeply for her. </p><p>Adrian sat beside him running a hand through his hair in weak attempt to tame it. The colors of his skin contradicted the sheen of his hair in a way that reminded Trevor of the moon over a golden ocean. It was oddly comforting to know Adrian felt guilt and remorse- probably more that most men. For the first time ever, Adrian looked rather human. His skin didn't have an unnatural glow to it. His eye were wide resembling orbs of maple seeds. The creamy brown color didn't have that arrogant glint in them. In some ways, Adrian seemed humble. It was rather odd to see him so bothered and unruly. Trevor turned away to look out at the town in the distance. </p><p>For years he had searched for something more than the mundane life he was cursed to walk, but who would have thought it would take a Speaker and a dhampir to make him a hero again. Trevor begins to laugh causing him to fall to the ground. He lays there feeling his stomach tighten and the blood loosen again before dripping down the side of his face.</p><p>Adrian falls to his knees beside him taking in the man currently losing his mind. Trevor takes no offense to the odd look he's probably getting as he rolls his head back feeling cold. The night air found a way to suck the last bit of warmth he could hold without so much as a warning. Trevor shivers against the wind.</p>
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<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The woman stands on the balcony looking over all the land that she indirectly inherited from a suitor. Years of patience and practice had taught her what men want and what men think they need. They were so easily manipulated when they believed themselves to be in charge. She chuckled to herself.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Kinda bridged this into a sequel, so should I make a part two?<br/>I don't know honestly, but depending on how popular this story gets, I might consider it tbh. I really enjoyed writing it even if it sucks. Thank you for reading it and enjoying it. I hope I did the fandom justice.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The woman stands on the balcony looking over all the land that she indirectly inherited from a suitor. Years of patience and practice had taught her what men want and what men think they need. They were so easily manipulated when they believed themselves to be in charge. She chuckled to herself.</p><p>The last time she had made a deal with someone had gone well. It didn't take only before the doubt set in and the people began to turn on them. She eyed the Count from the corner of his study staring into the embers. How many nights had he sat like that wondering about her? The bitterness she felt made her want to scream out. How could he be so blind? All the power in the world was at his hands. All the resources and the money and he throws it into the streets for a woman who sought him out.</p><p>She would never resort to something so pathetic. Every vampire knew the dangers of loving a human. Besides a good meal and a short life span, they were good for nothing else. Still, the Count knew this and pursued her anyway. What a woman that Lisa Tepes must have been. </p><p>The vampire swirls her cup and stares into the red slop ignoring the aftertaste that came with pig's blood. Even in her death, the Count refused to drink form live sources. He regulated they all live off this cheap crap starving themselves slowing out of 'courtesy' for the humans. When had the humans ever thought about them? When had vampires ever been a concern to a human?</p><p>She could easily see how such a strong-willed woman, even a human, could manipulate such a weak-minded man. She sighed throwing the cup over the balcony. Years ago, if you told her she was going to meet the great Count Dracula, she would have thought you crazy. No one could hold a light to such a vampire who took down hordes of men and stood for only himself. She remembered when her own sire had told her about the army Dracula had raised.</p><p>"The Black King seems to be making his moves early." The racquet old vampire would croon as he moved a piece on his chessboard. He requested her audience anytime he played. Though she found no joy in games or had the luxury of fun, she still marveled at how easily her sire could predict the moves of other vampires. It was the only reason she hadn't killed him sooner. She longed to know everything she could about men.</p><p>She waited until he fell asleep before slipping into the study. She taught herself to read and write. Her sire had spoken many languages in his day when he played ambassador. She grew obsessed with his level of clarity on situations. How cunning and conniving the old Elite was. To her, it was euphoric when he fell asleep and she mustered enough courage to slip poison into his meal that night. The sound of his last breath was music to her ears.</p><p>Never had she felt more alive in that moment than most of her unliving life.</p><p>Still, the vampire pouted leaning her arms against the marble railing feeling the cool breeze catch her long white hair. How long ago had it been since she was just a young vampire first learning how this world worked? It had only been a decade or two, yet she had done the impossible. She was sick and tired of entertaining old, crazy men. Dracula was no different.</p><p>He had changed his named and given himself a title as a man. He no longer wore his nails long or drank fresh, human blood. He no longer feigned to start wars and fight those who question his authority. Instead, he moped around his castle hiding from the world like a child hiding behind its mother's legs. It was like watching a dog get kicked down. He walked with his tail down and no bite left in him.</p><p>She had, of course, taken it upon herself to spice things up. It was almost scary how easy it was to pull a few cards and flash money around that sent the councilman scrambling for a divine power he could never have.</p><p>"I just want to give you a little push." She had told him when they met up at his office.</p><p>"An incentive." She smiled at Godbrand patting his cheek when he asked her about why she was buying him a bar. She easily dismissed his suspicions saying she was bored of him drinking around her. After all, Dracula had called not too long ago when he grew tired of the humans and wanted revenge. </p><p>Now, there was a death threat on his life. She couldn't take all the credit. No one had been able to kill the Count after all this time so she doubt she would be able too. Godbrand was absolutely smitten with anything that walked on two legs and had a pretty face. Though it would be easier to pin her crimes on him, the older Elite had been on the council the longest. He held almost as much power as the silly human merchant Dracula dragged around with. </p><p>Isaac was her real issue. The merchant seemed to have some sort of sense about trouble and he hadn't stopped deeming her suspicious. It grew harder to go about her plan when the man seemed intent on keeping his eye on her. So, she did what she did best. The vampire used all her charm and wits to try and woo him. How ironic did she actually find his defiantly stubborn nature amusing when he didn't even bat an eye in her direction. It seemed her charms just scared him off.</p><p>She felt herself loosen a bit running through everything she had done to get here. It felt like being at the top of the world. No longer was she a weakling scrambling for her sire's pleasure. Now, people bowed to here. They needed her. The vampire found her eyes falling up the figure in the distance. His black hair, a shade darker than obsidian, glistened in the firelight, how easy it would be to just take him now, but if she killed him here, the others would avenge his death.</p><p>She had not yet gained the full mercy of the court. He still had power and say. She just had to plant the seeds of doubt in order to disrupt the flow of authority. It did help that his son was aloof. The boy practically ran off on a whim following whatever breadcrumbs she threw. It was rather assuming to watch the dhampir struggle with his footing scared to be like his father but feeling unworthy of being like his mother. The identity crisis led to him fleeing the reigns of home for a year. </p><p>The vampire walked towards the door of the study. The warmth of the fire kissed her ashen skin in a nuisance. It irritated her how he enjoyed such simple pleasures. The Count looked up from a book he was reading. His head turned towards her as she stepped in front of him blocking the heat with her body. </p><p>"What are you doing?" he asked gruffly. His voice was edged with annoyance.</p><p>She smiled before taking a seat in his lap, snatching the book from his hand. It was rather childish of her, but the vampire couldn't seem to get his attention any other way. </p><p>"What is it that you are doing?" She asked teasingly. She leaned in giving a slow peck on the cheak.</p><p>He didn't look at her as he began to stand knocking her to the floor. The vampire growled in annoyance as Dracula sighed.  His wedding band was worn snugly on his finger.</p><p>"You should go." He said turning his back to her. The younger vampire eyes him before rising to her feet.</p><p>"You should have just turned her if you loved her so much." She stated. </p><p>Dracula turned to her. His red eyes glowed with fury as he spat her about disobeying his rules. The vampire didn't recoil in fear. She stood tall and indignant. No man would ever take that away from her again. She was not some object to be hung on a mantle nor was she to take orders from a creature who fell apart over a human. She was better than this. She was better than him. Everything she fought for and everything she believed in was why she had even traveled to his stupid place to begin with. If not for the fact she wanted Dracula dead, she would have killed his wife years ago, if it meant getting to be queen of Wallachia.</p>
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